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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Library of the World's Best Literature, Ancient and Modern, Vol. 16 + +Author: Various + +Editor: Charles Dudley Warner + +Release Date: September 3, 2010 [EBook #33624] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORLD'S BEST LITERATURE, VOL. 16 *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + + +<h2>LIBRARY OF THE</h2> +<h1>WORLD'S BEST LITERATURE</h1> +<h3>ANCIENT AND MODERN<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +CHARLES DUDLEY WARNER</h3> +<h5>EDITOR</h5> + +<h4>HAMILTON WRIGHT MABIE<br /> +LUCIA GILBERT RUNKLE<br /> +GEORGE HENRY WARNER</h4> +<h5>ASSOCIATE EDITORS</h5> + +<h4>Connoisseur Edition<br /> +<span class="smcap">Vol. XVI.</span></h4> + +<h4>NEW YORK<br /> +<big>THE INTERNATIONAL SOCIETY</big></h4> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>Connoisseur Edition</h3> +<h5>LIMITED TO FIVE HUNDRED COPIES IN HALF RUSSIA<br /> +<br /> +<i>No</i>. ..........</h5> + +<h5>Copyright, 1896, by<br /> +R. S. PEALE AND J. A. HILL<br /> +<i>All rights reserved</i></h5> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE ADVISORY COUNCIL</h2> + + +<div class="blockquot"><p> +CRAWFORD H. TOY, A. M., LL. D.,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Professor of Hebrew, <span class="smcap">Harvard University</span>, Cambridge, Mass.</span><br /> +<br /> +THOMAS R. LOUNSBURY, LL. D., L. H. D.,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Professor of English in the Sheffield Scientific School of <span class="smcap">Yale University</span>, New Haven, Conn.</span><br /> +<br /> +WILLIAM M. SLOANE, <span class="smcap">Ph. D.</span>, L. H. D.,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Professor of History and Political Science, <span class="smcap">Princeton University</span>, Princeton, N. J.</span><br /> +<br /> +BRANDER MATTHEWS, A. M., LL. B.,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Professor of Literature, <span class="smcap">Columbia University</span>, New York City.</span><br /> +<br /> +JAMES B. ANGELL, LL. D.,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">President of the <span class="smcap">University of Michigan</span>, Ann Arbor, Mich.</span><br /> +<br /> +WILLARD FISKE, A. M., <span class="smcap">Ph. D.</span>,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Late Professor of the Germanic and Scandinavian Languages and Literatures, <span class="smcap">Cornell University</span>, Ithaca, N. Y.</span><br /> +<br /> +EDWARD S. HOLDEN, A. M., LL. D.,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Director of the Lick Observatory, and Astronomer, <span class="smcap">University of California</span>, Berkeley, Cal.</span><br /> +<br /> +ALCÉE FORTIER, LIT. D.,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Professor of the Romance Languages, <span class="smcap">Tulane University</span>, New Orleans, La.</span><br /> +<br /> +WILLIAM P. TRENT, M. A.,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dean of the Department of Arts and Sciences, and Professor of English and History, <span class="smcap">University of the South</span>, Sewanee, Tenn.</span><br /> +<br /> +PAUL SHOREY, <span class="smcap">Ph. D.</span>,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Professor of Greek and Latin Literature, <span class="smcap">University of Chicago</span>, Chicago, Ill.</span><br /> +<br /> +WILLIAM T. HARRIS, LL. D.,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">United States Commissioner of Education, <span class="smcap">Bureau of Education</span>, Washington, D. C.</span><br /> +<br /> +MAURICE FRANCIS EGAN, A. M., LL. D.,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Professor of Literature in the <span class="smcap">Catholic University of America</span>, Washington, D. C.</span><br /> +</p></div> + + + + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[Pg v]</a></span></p> +<h2>TABLE OF CONTENTS</h2> + +<h3>VOL. XVI</h3> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" summary="Table of Contents"> +<tr> + <td> </td> + <td><small>LIVED</small></td> + <td align="right"><small>PAGE</small></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><big><a href="#AULUS_GELLIUS"><span class="smcap">Aulus Gellius</span></a></big></td> + <td>Second Century A.D.</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_13">6253</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#FROM_ATTIC_NIGHTS">From 'Attic Nights':</a> Origin, and Plan of the Book; The Vestal Virgins; The Secrets of the Senate; Plutarch and his Slave; Discussion on One of Solon's Laws; The Nature of Sight; Earliest Libraries; Realistic Acting; The Athlete's End</span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="3"> </td></tr> +<tr> + <td><big><a href="#GESTA_ROMANORUM"><span class="smcap">Gesta Romanorum</span></a></big></td> + <td> </td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_21">6261</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THEODOSIUS_THE_EMPEROUREA">Theodosius the Emperoure</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Moralite</span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#ANCELMUS_THE_EMPEROURA">Ancelmus the Emperour</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Moralite</span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#HOW_AN_ANCHORESS_WAS_TEMPTED_BY_THE_DEVIL">How an Anchoress was Tempted by the Devil</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="3"> </td></tr> +<tr> + <td><big><a href="#EDWARD_GIBBON"><span class="smcap">Edward Gibbon</span></a></big></td> + <td>1737-1794</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_33">6271</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="3" align="center">BY W. E. H. LECKY</td></tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#ZENOBIA">Zenobia</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#FOUNDATION_OF_CONSTANTINOPLE">Foundation of Constantinople</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#CHARACTER_OF_CONSTANTINE">Character of Constantine</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#DEATH_OF_JULIAN">Death of Julian</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_FALL_OF_ROME">Fall of Rome</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#SILK">Silk</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#MAHOMETS_DEATH_AND_CHARACTER">Mahomet's Death and Character</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_ALEXANDRIAN_LIBRARY">The Alexandrian Library</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_FINAL_RUIN_OF_ROME">Final Ruin of Rome</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 4em;">All from the 'Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire'</span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="3"> </td></tr> +<tr> + <td><big><a href="#WILLIAM_SCHWENCK_GILBERT"><span class="smcap">William Schwenck Gilbert</span></a></big></td> + <td>1836-</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_97">6333</a><span class='pagenum'>[Pg vi]</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#CAPTAIN_REECE">Captain Reece</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_YARN_OF_THE_NANCY_BELL">The Yarn of the Nancy Bell</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_BISHOP_OF_RUM-TI-FOO">The Bishop of Rum-ti-foo</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#GENTLE_ALICE_BROWN">Gentle Alice Brown</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_CAPTAIN_AND_THE_MERMAIDS">The Captain and the Mermaids</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 4em;">All from the 'Bab Ballads'</span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="3"> </td></tr> +<tr> + <td><big><a href="#RICHARD_WATSON_GILDER"><span class="smcap">Richard Watson Gilder</span></a></big></td> + <td>1844-</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_111">6347</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#TWO_SONGS_FROM_THE_NEW_DAY">Two Songs from 'The New Day'</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#DARK_THE_SOLEMN_SUNSET">"Rose-Dark the Solemn Sunset"</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;">The Celestial Passion</span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#NON_SINE_DOLORE">Non Sine Dolore</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#ON_THE_LIFEMASK_OF_ABRAHAM_LINCOLN">On the Life Mask of Abraham Lincoln</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#AMERICA">From 'The Great Remembrance'</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="3"> </td></tr> +<tr> + <td><big><a href="#GIUSEPPE_GIUSTI"><span class="smcap">Giuseppe Giusti</span></a></big></td> + <td>1809-1850</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_119">6355</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#LULLABY">Lullaby ('Gingillino')</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_STEAM-GUILLOTINE">The Steam Guillotine</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="3"> </td></tr> +<tr> + <td><big><a href="#WILLIAM_EWART_GLADSTONE"><span class="smcap">William Ewart Gladstone</span></a></big></td> + <td>1809-</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_125">6359</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#MACAULAY">Macaulay ('Gleanings of Past Years')</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="3"> </td></tr> +<tr> + <td><big><a href="#EDWIN_LAWRENCE_GODKIN"><span class="smcap">Edwin Lawrence Godkin</span></a></big></td> + <td>1831-</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_139">6373</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_DUTY_OF_CRITICISM_IN_A_DEMOCRACY">The Duty of Criticism in a Democracy ('Problems of Modern Democracy')</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="3"> </td></tr> +<tr> + <td><big><a href="#GOETHE"><span class="smcap">Goethe</span></a></big></td> + <td>1749-1832</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_153">6385</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="3" align="center">BY EDWARD DOWDEN</td></tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#FROM_FAUST">From 'Faust,' Shelley's Translation</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#SCENES_FROM_FAUST">Scenes from 'Faust', Bayard Taylor's Translation</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#MIGNONS_LOVE_AND_LONGING">Mignon's Love and Longing ('Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship')</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#WILHELM_MEISTERS_INTRODUCTION_TO_SHAKESPEARE">Wilhelm Meister's Introduction to Shakespeare (same)</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#WILHELM_MEISTERS_ANALYSIS_OF_HAMLET">Wilhelm Meister's Analysis of Hamlet (same)</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_INDENTURE">The Indenture (same)</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_HARPERS_SONGS">The Harper's Songs (same)</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#MIGNONS_SONG">Mignon's Song (same)</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#PHILINAS_SONG">Philina's Song (same)</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#PROMETHEUS">Prometheus</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#WANDERERS_NIGHT_SONGS">Wanderer's Night Songs</a></span></td><td><span class='pagenum'>[Pg vii]</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_ELFIN-KING">The Elfin-King</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#FROM_THE_WANDERERS_STORM_SONG">From 'The Wanderer's Storm Song'</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_GODLIKE">The Godlike</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#SOLITUDE">Solitude</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#ERGO">Ergo Bibamus!</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#ALEXIS_AND_DORA">Alexis and Dora</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#MAXIMS">Maxims and Reflections</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#NATURE">Nature</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="3"> </td></tr> +<tr> + <td><big><a href="#GOGOL"><span class="smcap">Nikolai Vasilievitch Gogol</span></a></big></td> + <td>1809-1852</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_225">6455</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="3" align="center">BY ISABEL F. HAPGOOD</td></tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#FROM_THE_INSPECTOR">From 'The Inspector'</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#OLD-FASHIONED_GENTRY">Old-Fashioned Gentry ('Mirgorod')</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="3"> </td></tr> +<tr> + <td><big><a href="#CARLO_GOLDONI"><span class="smcap">Carlo Goldoni</span></a></big></td> + <td>1707-1793</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_247">6475</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="3" align="center">BY WILLIAM CRANSTON LAWTON</td></tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#FIRST_LOVE_AND_PARTING">First Love and Parting ('Memoirs of Carlo Goldoni')</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_ORIGIN_OF_MASKS_IN_THE_ITALIAN_COMEDY">The Origin of Masks in the Italian Comedy (same)</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#PURISTS_AND_PEDANTRY">Purists and Pedantry (same)</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#A_POETS_OLD_AGE">A Poet's Old Age (same)</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_CAFE">The Café</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="3"> </td></tr> +<tr> + <td><big><a href="#MEIR_AARON_GOLDSCHMIDT"><span class="smcap">Meïr Aaron Goldschmidt</span></a></big></td> + <td>1819-1887</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_265">6493</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#ASSAR_AND_MIRJAM">Assar and Mirjam ('Love Stories from Many Countries')</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="3"> </td></tr> +<tr> + <td><big><a href="#OLIVER_GOLDSMITH"><span class="smcap">Oliver Goldsmith</span></a></big></td> + <td>1728-1774</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_275">6501</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="3" align="center">BY CHARLES MILLS GAYLEY</td></tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_VICARS_FAMILY_BECOME_AMBITIOUS">The Vicar's Family Become Ambitious ('The Vicar of Wakefield')</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#NEW_MISFORTUNES_BUT_OFFENSES_ARE_EASILY_PARDONED">New Misfortunes: But Offenses are Easily Pardoned Where There is Love at Bottom (same)</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#PICTURES_FROM_THE_DESERTED_VILLAGE">Pictures from 'The Deserted Village'</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#CONTRASTED_NATIONAL_TYPES">Contrasted National Types ('The Traveller')</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="3"> </td></tr> +<tr> + <td><big><a href="#IVAN_ALEKSANDROVITCH_GONCHAROF"><span class="smcap">Ivan Aleksandrovitch Goncharóf</span></a></big></td> + <td>1812-</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_307">6533</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="3" align="center">BY NATHAN HASKELL DOLE</td></tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#OBLOMOF">Oblómof</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="3"> </td></tr> +<tr> + <td><big><a href="#THE_BROTHERS_DE_GONCOURT"><span class="smcap">The Brothers De Goncourt</span></a></big><span class='pagenum'>[Pg viii]</span></td> + <td> </td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_323">6549</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">Edmond </td> + <td>1822-1896</td> + <td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">Jules </td> + <td>1830-1870</td> + <td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#TWO_FAMOUS_MEN">Two Famous Men ('Journal of the De Goncourts')</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_SUICIDE">The Suicide ('Sister Philomène')</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_AWAKENING">The Awakening ('Renée Mauperin')</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="3"> </td></tr> +<tr> + <td><big><a href="#EDMUND_GOSSE"><span class="smcap">Edmund Gosse</span></a></big></td> + <td>1849-</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_339">6565</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#FEBRUARY_IN_ROME">February in Rome</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#DESIDERIUM">Desiderium</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#LYING_IN_THE_GRASS">Lying in the Grass</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="3"> </td></tr> +<tr> + <td><big><a href="#RUDOLF_VON_GOTTSCHALL"><span class="smcap">Rudolf von Gottschall</span></a></big></td> + <td>1823-</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_345">6571</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#HEINRICH_HEINE">Heinrich Heine ('Portraits and Studies')</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="3"> </td></tr> +<tr> + <td><big><a href="#JOHN_GOWER"><span class="smcap">John Gower</span></a></big></td> + <td>1325?-1408</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_353">6579</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#PETRONELLA">Petronella ('Confessio Amantis')</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="3"> </td></tr> +<tr> + <td><big><a href="#ULYSSES_S_GRANT"><span class="smcap">Ulysses S. Grant</span></a></big></td> + <td>1822-1885</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_369">6593</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="3" align="center">BY HAMLIN GARLAND</td></tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#EARLY_LIFE">Early Life ('Personal Memoirs of U. S. Grant')</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#GRANTS_COURTSHIP">Grant's Courtship (same)</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#A_TEXAN_EXPERIENCE">A Texan Experience (same)</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_SURRENDER_OF_GENERAL_LEE">The Surrender of General Lee (same)</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="3"> </td></tr> +<tr> + <td><big><a href="#HENRY_GRATTAN"><span class="smcap">Henry Grattan</span></a></big></td> + <td>1746-1820</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_391">6615</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#ON_THE_CHARACTER_OF_CHATHAM">On the Character of Chatham</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#OF_THE_INJUSTICE_OF_DISQUALIFICATION_OF_CATHOLICS">Of the Injustice of Disqualification of Catholics (Speech in Parliament)</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#ON_THE_DOWNFALL_OF_BONAPARTE">On the Downfall of Bonaparte (Speech in Parliament)</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="3"> </td></tr> +<tr> + <td><big><a href="#THOMAS_GRAY"><span class="smcap">Thomas Gray</span></a></big></td> + <td>1716-1771</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_401">6623</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="3" align="center">BY GEORGE PARSONS LATHROP</td></tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#ELEGY_WRITTEN_IN_A_COUNTRY_CHURCH-YARD">Elegy Written in a Country Church-yard</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#ODE_ON_THE_SPRING">Ode on the Spring</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#ON_A_DISTANT_PROSPECT_OF_ETON_COLLEGE">On a Distant Prospect of Eton College</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><a href="#THE_BARD">The Bard</a></span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="3"> </td></tr> +<tr> + <td><big><a href="#THE_GREEK_ANTHOLOGY"><span class="smcap">The Greek Anthology</span></a></big><span class='pagenum'>[Pg ix]</span></td> + <td> </td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_417">6637</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="3" align="center">BY TALCOTT WILLIAMS</td></tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span style="margin-left: 2em;">On the Athenian Dead at Platæa (Simonides); On the +Lacedæmonian Dead at Platæa (Simonides); On a Sleeping Satyr (Plato); A Poet's Epitaph (Simmias of +Thebes); Worship in Spring (Theætetus); Spring on the Coast (Leonidas of Tarentum); A Young Hero's +Epitaph (Dioscorides); Love (Posidippus); Sorrow's Barren Grave (Heracleitus); To a Coy Maiden (Asclepiades); +The Emptied Quiver (Mnesalcus); the Tale of Troy (Alpheus); Heaven Hath its Stars (Marcus +Argentarius); Pan of the Sea-Cliff (Archias); Anacreon's Grave (Antipater of Sidon); Rest at Noon +(Meleager); "In the Spring a Young Man's Fancy" (Meleager); Meleager's Own Epitaph (Meleager); Epilogue +(Philodemus); Doctor and Divinity (Nicarchus); Love's Immortality (Strato); As the Flowers of the +Field (Strato); Summer Sailing (Antiphilus); The Great Mysteries (Crinagoras); To Priapus of the Shore +(Mæcius); The Common Lot (Ammianus); "To-morrow, and To-morrow" (Macedonius); The Palace Garden +(Arabius); The Young Wife (Julianus Ægyptius); A Nameless Grave (Paulus Silentiarius); Resignation +(Joannes Barbucallus); The House of the Righteous (Macedonius); Love's Ferriage (Agathias); On a Fowler +(Isidorus). Anonymous: Youth and Riches; The Singing Reed; First Love again Remembered; Slave and +Philosopher; Good-by to Childhood; Wishing; Hope and Experience; The Service of God; The Pure in +Heart; The Water of Purity; Rose and Thorn; A Life's Wandering</span></td><td> </td> +</tr> +</table> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[Pg x]</a></span></p> +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">[Pg xi]</a></span></p> +<h2>FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + +<h3>VOLUME XVI</h3> + + +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="ILLUSTRATIONS" width="60%"> +<tr> + <td> </td> + <td align="right"><small>PAGE</small></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Alexander Romance (Colored Plate)</td> + <td align="right">Frontispiece</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#GIBBON">Gibbon (Portrait)</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_33">6271</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#RUINED_ROME">Ruined Rome (Photograph)</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_78">6316</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#GLADSTONE">Gladstone (Portrait)</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_125">6359</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#GOETHE1">Goethe (Portrait)</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_153">6385</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#PRISON">"Faust and Margaret in Prison" (Photogravure)</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_176">6408</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>"The Bride's Toilet" (Photogravure)</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_236">6466</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#GOLDONI">Goldoni (Portrait)</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_247">6475</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#GOLDSMITH">Goldsmith (Portrait)</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_275">6501</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#GRANT">Grant (Portrait)</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_369">6593</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#GRAY">Gray (Portrait)</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_401">6623</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#CHURCH">"Stoke Poges Church and Churchyard" (Photogravure)</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_404">6626</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + + +<h3>VIGNETTE PORTRAITS</h3> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="PORTRAITS" width="60%"> +<tr> + <td><a href="#WILLIAM_SCHWENCK_GILBERT">Gilbert</a></td> + <td><a href="#IVAN_ALEKSANDROVITCH_GONCHAROF">Goncharof</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#RICHARD_WATSON_GILDER">Gilder</a></td> + <td><a href="#THE_BROTHERS_DE_GONCOURT">De Goncourt</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#GIUSEPPE_GIUSTI">Giusti</a></td> + <td><a href="#RUDOLF_VON_GOTTSCHALL">Gottschall</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#EDWIN_LAWRENCE_GODKIN">Godkin</a></td> + <td><a href="#JOHN_GOWER">Gower</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#GOGOL">Gogol</a></td> + <td><a href="#HENRY_GRATTAN">Grattan</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#MEIR_AARON_GOLDSCHMIDT">Goldschmidt</a></td> + <td> </td> +</tr> +</table> + + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xii" id="Page_xii">[Pg xii]</a></span></p> + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 6253]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="AULUS_GELLIUS" id="AULUS_GELLIUS"></a>AULUS GELLIUS</h2> + +<h4>(<span class="smcap">Second Century A. D.</span>)</h4> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 90px;"> +<img src="images/capp.png" width="90" height="91" alt="P" title="P" /> +</div><p class="dropcap">erhaps Gellius's 'Attic Nights' may claim especial mention +here, as one of the earliest extant forerunners of this +'Library.' In the original preface (given first among the +citations), Gellius explains very clearly the origin and scope of his +work. It is not, however, a mere scrap-book. There is original matter +in many chapters. In particular, an ethical or philosophic excerpt +has often been framed in a little scene,—doubtless imaginary,—and +cast in the form of a dialogue. We get, even, pleasant glimpses of +autobiography from time to time. The author is not, however, a +deep or forceful character, on the whole. His heart is mostly set on +trifles.</p> + +<p>Yet Gellius has been an assiduous student, both in Greece and +Italy; and his book gives us an agreeable, probably an adequate, +view of the fields which are included in the general culture of his +time. Despite its title, the work is chiefly Roman. In history, biography, +antiquities, grammar, literary criticism, his materials and authors +are prevailingly Latin. He is perhaps most widely known and +quoted on early Roman life and usages. Thus, one of his chapters +gives a mass of curious information as to the choice of the Vestal +Virgins. We are also largely indebted to him for citations from lost +authors. We have already quoted under Ennius the sketch, in eighteen +hexameters, of a scholar-soldier, believed to be a genial self-portraiture. +These lines are the finest specimen we have of the +'Annales.' Similarly, under Cato, we have quoted the chief fragment +of the great Censor's Roman history. For both these treasures we +must thank Gellius. Indeed, throughout the wide fields of Roman +antiquities, history of literature, grammar, etc., we have to depend +chiefly upon various late Latin scrap-books and compilations, most of +which are not even made up at first hand from creative classical authors. +To Gellius, also, the imposing array of writers so constantly +named by him was evidently known chiefly through compendiums +and handbooks. It is suspicious, for instance, that he hardly quotes +a poet within a century of his own time. Repetitions, contradictions, +etc., are numerous.</p> + +<p>Despite its twenty "books" and nearly four hundred (short) chapters, +the work is not only light and readable for the most part, but +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 6254]</a></span> +quite modest in total bulk: five hundred and fifty pages in the small +page and generous type of Hertz's Teubner text. There is an English +translation by Rev. W. Beloe, first printed in 1795, from which +we quote below. Professor Nettleship's (in his 'Essays in Latin Literature') +has no literary quality, but gives a careful analysis of Gellius's +subjects and probable sources. There is a revival of interest +in this author in recent years. We decidedly recommend Hertz's attractive +volume to any Latin student who wishes to browse beyond +the narrow classical limits.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="FROM_ATTIC_NIGHTS" id="FROM_ATTIC_NIGHTS"></a>FROM 'ATTIC NIGHTS'</h3> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">Origin and Plan of the Book</span></h3> + +<p>More pleasing works than the present may certainly be found: +my object in writing this was to provide my children, as +well as myself, with that kind of amusement in which +they might properly relax and indulge themselves at the intervals +from more important business. I have preserved the same +accidental arrangement which I had before used in making the +collection. Whatever book came into my hand, whether it was +Greek or Latin, or whatever I heard that was either worthy of +being recorded or agreeable to my fancy, I wrote down without +distinction and without order. These things I treasured up to +aid my memory, as it were by a store-house of learning; so that +when I wanted to refer to any particular circumstance or word +which I had at the moment forgotten, and the books from which +they were taken happened not to be at hand, I could easily find +and apply it. Thus the same irregularity will appear in these +commentaries as existed in the original annotations, which were +concisely written down without any method or arrangement in +the course of what I at different times had heard or read. As +these observations at first constituted my business and my amusement +through many long winter nights which I spent in Attica, +I have given them the name of 'Attic Nights.' ... It is an +old proverb, "A jay has no concern with music, nor a hog with +perfumes:" but that the ill-humor and invidiousness of certain +ill-taught people may be still more exasperated, I shall borrow a +few verses from a chorus of Aristophanes; and what he, a man +of most exquisite humor, proposed as a law to the spectators of +his play, I also recommend to the readers of this volume, that +the vulgar and unhallowed herd, who are averse to the sports of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 6255]</a></span> +the Muses, may not touch nor even approach it. The verses are +these:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Silent be they, and far from hence remove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By scenes like ours not likely to improve,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who never paid the honored Muse her rights,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who senseless live in wild, impure delights;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I bid them once, I bid them twice begone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I bid them thrice, in still a louder tone:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far hence depart, whilst ye with dance and song<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our solemn feast, our tuneful nights prolong.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">The Vestal Virgins</span></h3> + +<p>The writers on the subject of taking a Vestal Virgin, of +whom Labeo Antistius is the most elaborate, have asserted that +no one could be taken who was less than six or more than +ten years old. Neither could she be taken unless both her +father and mother were alive, if she had any defect of voice or +hearing, or indeed any personal blemish, or if she herself or +father had been made free; or if under the protection of her +grandfather, her father being alive; if one or both of her parents +were in actual servitude, or employed in mean occupations. She +whose sister was in this character might plead exemption, as +might she whose father was flamen, augur, one of the fifteen +who had care of the sacred books, or one of the seventeen who +regulated the sacred feasts, or a priest of Mars. Exemption was +also granted to her who was betrothed to a pontiff, and to the +daughter of the sacred trumpeter. Capito Ateius has also observed +that the daughter of a man was ineligible who had no +establishment in Italy, and that his daughter might be excused +who had three children. But as soon as a Vestal Virgin is taken, +conducted to the vestibule of Vesta, and delivered to the pontiffs, +she is from that moment removed from her father's authority, +without any form of emancipation or loss of rank, and has also +the right of making her will. No more ancient records remain +concerning the form and ceremony of taking a virgin, except that +the first virgin was taken by King Numa. But we find a Papian +law which provides that at the will of the supreme pontiff twenty +virgins should be chosen from the people; that these should draw +lots in the public assembly; and that the supreme pontiff might +take her whose lot it was, to become the servant of Vesta. But +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 6256]</a></span> +this drawing of lots by the Papian law does not now seem necessary; +for if any person of ingenuous birth goes to the pontiff +and offers his daughter for this ministry, if she may be accepted +without any violation of what the ceremonies of religion enjoin, +the Senate dispenses with the Papian law. Moreover, a virgin is +said to be taken, because she is taken by the hand of the high +priest from that parent under whose authority she is, and led +away as a captive in war. In the first book of Fabius Pictor, we +have the form of words which the supreme pontiff is to repeat +when he takes a virgin. It is this:—</p> + +<p>"I take thee, beloved, as a priestess of Vesta, to perform +religious service, to discharge those duties with respect to the +whole body of the Roman people which the law most wisely +requires of a priestess of Vesta."</p> + +<p>It is also said in those commentaries of Labeo which he wrote +on the Twelve Tables:—</p> + +<p>"No Vestal Virgin can be heiress to any intestate person of +either sex. Such effects are said to belong to the public. It is +inquired by what right this is done?" When taken she is called +<i>amata</i>, or beloved, by the high priest; because Amata is said to +have been the name of her who was first taken.</p> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">The Secrets of the Senate</span></h3> + +<p>It was formerly usual for the senators of Rome to enter +the Senate-house accompanied by their sons who had taken the +prætexta. When something of superior importance was discussed +in the Senate, and the further consideration adjourned to the day +following, it was resolved that no one should divulge the subject +of their debates till it should be formally decreed. The mother +of the young Papirius, who had accompanied his father to the +Senate-house, inquired of her son what the senators had been +doing. The youth replied that he had been enjoined silence, and +was not at liberty to say. The woman became more anxious to +know; the secretness of the thing, and the silence of the youth, +did but inflame her curiosity. She therefore urged him with +more vehement earnestness. The young man, on the importunity +of his mother, determined on a humorous and pleasant fallacy: +he said it was discussed in the Senate, which would be most +beneficial to the State—for one man to have two wives, or for +one woman to have two husbands. As soon as she heard this +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 6257]</a></span> +she was much agitated, and leaving her house in great trepidation, +went to tell the other matrons what she had learned. The +next day a troop of matrons went to the Senate-house, and with +tears and entreaties implored that one woman might be suffered +to have two husbands, rather than one man to have two wives. +The senators on entering the house were astonished, and wondered +what this intemperate proceeding of the women, and their +petition, could mean. The young Papirius, advancing to the +midst of the Senate, explained the pressing importunity of his +mother, his answer, and the matter as it was. The Senate, +delighted with the honor and ingenuity of the youth, made a +decree that from that time no youth should be suffered to enter +the Senate with his father, this Papirius alone excepted.</p> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">Plutarch and His Slave</span></h3> + +<p>Plutarch once ordered a slave, who was an impudent and +worthless fellow, but who had paid some attention to books and +philosophical disputations, to be stripped (I know not for what +fault) and whipped. As soon as his punishment began, he averred +that he did not deserve to be beaten; that he had been guilty of +no offense or crime. As they went on whipping him, he called +out louder, not with any cry of suffering or complaint, but gravely +reproaching his master. Such behavior, he said, was unworthy of +Plutarch; that anger disgraced a philosopher; that he had often +disputed on the mischiefs of anger; that he had written a very +excellent book about not giving place to anger; but that whatever +he had said in that book was now contradicted by the furious +and ungovernable anger with which he had now ordered him +to be severely beaten. Plutarch then replied with deliberate calmness:—"But +why, rascal, do I now seem to you to be in anger? +Is it from my countenance, my voice, my color, or my words, that +you conceive me to be angry? I cannot think that my eyes betray +any ferocity, nor is my countenance disturbed or my voice +boisterous; neither do I foam at the mouth, nor are my cheeks +red; nor do I say anything indecent or to be repented of; nor +do I tremble or seem greatly agitated. These, though you may +not know it, are the usual signs of anger." Then, turning to the +person who was whipping him: "Whilst this man and I," said +he, "are disputing, do you go on with your employment."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 6258]</a></span></p> +<h3><span class="smcap">Discussion on One of Solon's Laws</span></h3> + +<p>In those very ancient laws of Solon which were inscribed at +Athens on wooden tables, and which, from veneration to him, +the Athenians, to render eternal, had sanctioned with punishments +and religious oaths, Aristotle relates there was one to this +effect: If in any tumultuous dissension a sedition should ensue, +and the people divide themselves into two parties, and from this +irritation of their minds both sides should take arms and fight; +then he who in this unfortunate period of civil discord should +join himself to neither party, but should individually withdraw +himself from the common calamity of the city, should be deprived +of his house, his family and fortunes, and be driven into exile +from his country. When I had read this law of Solon, who was +eminent for his wisdom, I was at first impressed with great +astonishment, wondering for what reason he should think those +men deserving of punishment who withdrew themselves from +sedition and a civil war. Then a person who had profoundly +and carefully examined the use and purport of this law, affirmed +that it was calculated not to increase but terminate sedition; and +indeed it really is so, for if all the more respectable, who were +at first unable to check sedition, and could not overawe the +divided and infatuated people, join themselves to one part or +other, it will happen that when they are divided on both sides, +and each party begins to be ruled and moderated by them, as +men of superior influence, harmony will by their means be sooner +restored and confirmed; for whilst they regulate and temper their +own parties respectively, they would rather see their opponents +conciliated than destroyed. Favorinus the philosopher was of +opinion that the same thing ought to be done in the disputes of +brothers and of friends: that they who are benevolently inclined +to both sides, but have little influence in restoring harmony, +from being considered as doubtful friends, should decidedly take +one part or other; by which act they will obtain more effectual +power in restoring harmony to both. At present, says he, the +friends of both think they do well by leaving and deserting both, +thus giving them up to malignant or sordid lawyers, who inflame +their resentments and disputes from animosity or from avarice.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 6259]</a></span></p> +<h3><span class="smcap">The Nature of Sight</span></h3> + +<p>I have remarked various opinions among philosophers concerning +the causes of sight and the nature of vision. The Stoics +affirm the causes of sight to be an emission of radii from the +eyes against those things which are capable of being seen, with +an expansion at the same time of the air. But Epicurus thinks +that there proceed from all bodies certain images of the bodies +themselves, and that these impress themselves upon the eyes, and +that thence arises the sense of sight. Plato is of opinion that a +species of fire and light issues from the eyes, and that this, being +united and continued either with the light of the sun or the light +of some other fire, by its own, added to the external force, enables +us to see whatever it meets and illuminates.</p> + +<p>But on these things it is not worth while to trifle further; and +I recur to an opinion of the Neoptolemus of Ennius, whom I +have before mentioned: he thinks that we should taste of philosophy, +but not plunge in it over head and ears.</p> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">Earliest Libraries</span></h3> + +<p>Pisistratus the tyrant is said to have been the first who supplied +books of the liberal sciences at Athens for public use. +Afterwards the Athenians themselves with great care and pains +increased their number; but all this multitude of books, Xerxes, +when he obtained possession of Athens and burned the whole of +the city except the citadel, seized and carried away to Persia. +But King Seleucus, who was called Nicanor, many years afterwards, +was careful that all of them should be again carried back +to Athens.</p> + +<p>A prodigious number of books were in succeeding times collected +by the Ptolemies in Egypt, to the amount of near seven +hundred thousand volumes. But in the first Alexandrine war the +whole library, during the plunder of the city, was destroyed by +fire; not by any concerted design, but accidentally by the auxiliary +soldiers.</p> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">Realistic Acting</span></h3> + +<p>There was an actor in Greece of great celebrity, superior to +the rest in the grace and harmony of his voice and action. His +name, it is said, was Polus, and he acted in the tragedies of the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 6260]</a></span> +more eminent poets, with great knowledge and accuracy. This +Polus lost by death his only and beloved son. When he had +sufficiently indulged his natural grief, he returned to his employment. +Being at this time to act the 'Electra' of Sophocles at +Athens, it was his part to carry an urn as containing the bones +of Orestes. The argument of the fable is so imagined that +Electra, who is presumed to carry the relics of her brother, +laments and commiserates his end, who is believed to have died a +violent death. Polus, therefore, clad in the mourning habit of +Electra, took from the tomb the bones and urn of his son, and +as if embracing Orestes, filled the place, not with the image and +imitation, but with the sighs and lamentations of unfeigned sorrow. +Therefore, when a fable seemed to be represented, real +grief was displayed.</p> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">The Athlete's End</span></h3> + +<p>Milo of Crotona, a celebrated wrestler, who as is recorded +was crowned in the fiftieth Olympiad, met with a lamentable and +extraordinary death. When, now an old man, he had desisted +from his athletic art and was journeying alone in the woody +parts of Italy, he saw an oak very near the roadside, gaping in +the middle of the trunk, with its branches extended: willing, I +suppose, to try what strength he had left, he put his fingers into +the fissure of the tree, and attempted to pluck aside and separate +the oak, and did actually tear and divide it in the middle; +but when the oak was thus split in two, and he relaxed his hold +as having accomplished his intention, upon a cessation of the +force it returned to its natural position, and left the man, when +it united, with his hands confined, to be torn by wild beasts.</p> + +<p class="trans">Translation of Rev. W. Beloe.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 6261]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="GESTA_ROMANORUM" id="GESTA_ROMANORUM"></a>GESTA ROMANORUM</h2> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 90px;"> +<img src="images/capw.png" width="90" height="91" alt="W" title="W" /> +</div><p class="dropcap">hat are the 'Gesta Romanorum'? The most curious and interesting +of all collections of popular tales. Negatively, one +thing they are not: that is, they are not <i>Deeds of the Romans</i>, +the acts of the heirs of the Cæsars. All such allusions are the purest +fantasy. The great "citee of Rome," and some oddly dubbed emperor +thereof, indeed the entire background, are in truth as unhistorical +and imaginary as the tale itself.</p> + +<p>Such stories are very old. So far back did they spring that it +would be idle to conjecture their origin. In the centuries long before +Caxton, the centuries before manuscript-writing filled up the leisure +hours of the monks, the 'Gesta,' both in the Orient and in the Occident, +were brought forth. Plain, direct, and unvarnished, they are the +form in which the men of ideas of those rude times approached and +entertained, by accounts of human joy and woe, their brother men of +action. Every race of historic importance, from the eastern Turanians +to the western Celts, has produced such legends. Sometimes they +delight the lover of folk-lore; sometimes they belong to the Dryasdust +antiquarian. But our 'Gesta,' with their directness and naïveté, with +their occasional beauty of diction and fine touches of sympathy and +imagination,—even with their Northern lack of grace,—are properly +a part of literature. In these 'Deeds' is found the plot or ground-plan +of such master works as 'King Lear' and the 'Merchant of +Venice,' and the first cast of material refined by Chaucer, Gower, +Lydgate, Schiller, and other writers.</p> + +<p>Among the people in mediaeval times such tales evidently passed +from mouth to mouth. They were the common food of fancy and +delight to our forefathers, as they gathered round the fire in stormy +weather. Their recital enlivened the women's unnumbered hours of +spinning, weaving, and embroidery. As the short days of the year +came on, there must have been calls for 'The Knights of Baldak and +Lombardy,' 'The Three Caskets,' or 'The White and Black Daughters,' +as nowadays we go to our book-shelves for the stories that the +race still loves, and ungraciously enjoy the silent telling.</p> + +<p>Such folk-stories as those in the 'Gesta' are in the main made +of, must have passed from district to district and even from nation +to nation, by many channels,—chief among them the constant wanderings +of monks and minstrels,—becoming the common heritage of +many peoples, and passing from secular to sacerdotal use. The +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 6262]</a></span> +mediæval Church, with the acuteness that characterized it, seized on +the pretty tales, and adding to them the moralizing which a crude +system of ethics enjoined, carried its spoils to the pulpit. Even the +fables of pagan Æsop were thus employed.</p> + +<p>In the twelfth century the ecclesiastical forces were appropriating +to their use whatever secular rights and possessions came within +their grasp. A common ardor permitted and sustained this aggrandizement, +and the devotion that founded and swelled the mendicant +orders of Francis and Dominic, and led the populace to carry with +prayers and psalm-singing the stones of which great cathedrals were +built, readily gave their hearth-tales to illustrate texts and inculcate +doctrines. A habit of interpreting moral and religious precepts by +allegory led to the far-fetched, sometimes droll, and always naive +"moralities" which commonly follow each one of the 'Gesta.' The +more popular the tale, the more easily it held the attention; and the +priests with telling directness brought home the moral to the simple-minded. +The innocent joys and sad offenses of humanity interpreted +the Church's whole system of theology, and the stories, committed to +writing by the priests, were thus preserved.</p> + +<p>The secular tales must have been used in the pulpit for some +time before their systematic collection was undertaken. The zeal for +compiling probably reached its height in the age of Pierre Bercheure, +who died in 1362. To Bercheure, prior of the Benedictine Convent +of St. Eloi at Paris, the collection of 'Gesta Romanorum' has been +ascribed. A German scholar, however, Herr Österley, who published +in 1872 the result of an investigation of one hundred and sixty-five +manuscripts, asserts that the 'Gesta' were originally compiled towards +the end of the thirteenth century in England, from which country +they were taken to the Continent, there undergoing various alterations. +"The popularity of the original 'Gesta,'" says Sir F. Madden, +"not only on the Continent but among the English clergy, appears +to have induced some person, apparently in the reign of Richard +the Second, to undertake a similar compilation in this country." The +'Anglo-Latin Gesta' is the immediate original of the early English +translation from which the following stories are taken, with slight +verbal changes.</p> + +<p>The word <i>Gesta</i>, in mediæval Latin, means notable or historic act +or exploit. The Church, drawing all power, consequence, and grace +from Rome, naturally looked back to the Roman empire for historic +examples. In this fact we find the reason of the name. The tales +betray an entire ignorance of history. In one, for example, a statue +is raised to Julius Cæsar twenty-two years after the founding of +Rome; while in another, Socrates, Alexander, and the Emperor Claudius +are living together in Rome.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 6263]</a></span></p> + +<p>It is a pleasant picture which such legends bring before our eyes. +The old parish church of England, which with its yards is a common +meeting-place for the people's fairs and wakes, and even for their +beer-brewing; the simple rustics forming the congregation; the tonsured +head of the priest rising above the pulpit,—a monk from the +neighboring abbey, who earns his brown bread and ale and venison +by endeavors to move the moral sentiments which lie at the root of +the Anglo-Saxon character and beneath the apparent stolidity of each +yokel. Many of the tales are unfit for reproduction in our more +mincing times. The faithlessness of wives—with no reference whatever +to the faithlessness of husbands—is a favorite theme with these +ancient cenobites.</p> + +<p>It is possible, Herr Österley thinks, that the conjecture of Francis +Douce may be true, and the 'Gesta' may after all have been compiled +in Germany. But the bulk of the evidence goes to prove an English +origin. The earliest editions were published at Utrecht and at Cologne. +The English translation, from the text of the Latin of the +reign of Richard II., was first printed by Wynkyn de Worde between +1510 and 1515. In 1577 Richard Robinson published a revised edition +of Wynkyn de Worde's. The work became again popular, and between +1648 and 1703 at least eight issues were sold. An English translation +by Charles Swan from the Latin text was first published in 1824, and +reissued under the editorship of Thomas Wright in 1872 as a part of +Bohn's Library.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="THEODOSIUS_THE_EMPEROUREA" id="THEODOSIUS_THE_EMPEROUREA"></a>THEODOSIUS THE EMPEROURE<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a></h3> + + +<p>Theodosius reigned a wise emperour in the cite of Rome, and +mighty he was of power; the which emperoure had three +doughters. So it liked to this emperour to knowe which of +his doughters loved him best; and then he said to the eldest +doughter, "How much lovest thou me?" "Forsoth," quoth she, +"more than I do myself." "Therefore," quoth he, "thou shalt +be heighly advanced;" and married her to a riche and mighty +kyng. Then he came to the second, and said to her, "Doughter, +how muche lovest thou me?" "As muche forsoth," she said, "as +I do myself." So the emperoure married her to a duke. And +then he said to the third doughter, "How much lovest thou +me?" "Forsoth," quoth she, "as muche as ye be worthy, and +no more." Then said the emperoure, "Doughter, since thou +lovest me no more, thou shalt not be married so richely as thy +sisters be." And then he married her to an earl.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 6264]</a></span>After +this it happened that the emperour held battle against +the Kyng of Egipt, and the kyng drove the emperour oute of +the empire, in so muche that the emperour had no place to abide +inne. So he wrote lettres ensealed with his ryng to his first +doughter that said that she loved him more than her self, for to +pray her of succoring in that great need, bycause he was put out +of his empire. And when the doughter had red these lettres she +told it to the kyng her husband. Then quoth the kyng, "It is +good that we succor him in his need. I shall," quoth he, "gather +an host and help him in all that I can or may; and that will not +be done withoute great costage." "Yea," quoth she, "it were +sufficiant if that we would graunt him V knyghtes to be fellowship +with him while he is oute of his empire." And so it was +done indeed; and the doughter wrote again to the fader that +other help might he not have, but V knyghtes of the kynges to +be in his fellowship, at the coste of the kyng her husband.</p> + +<p>And when the emperour heard this he was hevy in his hert +and said, "Alas! alas! all my trust was in her; for she said she +loved me more than herself, and therefore I advanced her so high."</p> + +<p>Then he wrote to the second, that said she loved him as +much as her self. And when she had herd his lettres she shewed +his erand to her husband, and gave him in counsel that he should +find him mete and drink and clothing, honestly as for the state +of such a lord, during tyme of his nede; and when this was +graunted she wrote lettres agein to hir fadir.</p> + +<p>The Emperour was hevy with this answere, and said, "Since +my two doughters have thus grieved me, in sooth I shall prove +the third."</p> + +<p>And so he wrote to the third that she loved him as muche as +he was worthy; and prayed her of succor in his nede, and told +her the answere of her two sisters. So the third doughter, when +she considered the mischief of her fader, she told her husbond in +this fourme: "My worshipful lord, do succor me now in this great +nede; my fadir is put out of his empire and his heritage." Then +spake he, "What were thy will I did thereto?" "That ye gather +a great host," quoth she, "and help him to fight against his enemys." +"I shall fulfill thy will," said the earl; and gathered a +greate hoste and wente with the emperour at his owne costage to +the battle, and had the victorye, and set the emperour again in +his heritage.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 6265]</a></span></p> + +<p>And then said the emperour, "Blessed be the hour I gat my +yonest doughter! I loved her lesse than any of the others, and +now in my nede she hath succored me, and the others have failed +me, and therefore after my deth she shall have mine empire." +And so it was done in dede; for after the deth of the emperour +the youngest doughter reigned in his sted, and ended peacefully.</p> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">Moralite</span></h3> + +<p>Dere Frendis, this emperour may be called each worldly man, +the which hath three doughters. The first doughter, that saith, +"I love my fadir more than my self," is the worlde, whom a man +loveth so well that he expendeth all his life about it; but what +tyme he shall be in nede of deth, scarcely if the world will for +all his love give him five knyghtes, <i>scil.</i> v. boards for a coffin to +lay his body inne in the sepulcre. The second doughter, that +loveth her fader as muche as her selfe, is thy wife or thy children +or thy kin, the whiche will haply find thee in thy nede to +the tyme that thou be put in the erthe. And the third doughter, +that loveth thee as muche as thou art worthy, is our Lord God, +whom we love too little. But if we come to him in tyme of oure +nede with a clene hert and mynd, withoute doute we shall have +help of him against the Kyng of Egipt, <i>scil.</i> the Devil; and he +shall set us in our owne heritage, <i>scil.</i> the kyngdome of heven. +<i>Ad quod nos</i> [etc.].</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="ANCELMUS_THE_EMPEROURA" id="ANCELMUS_THE_EMPEROURA"></a>ANCELMUS THE EMPEROUR<a name="FNanchor_A_2" id="FNanchor_A_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_2" class="fnanchor">[B]</a></h3> + +<p>Ancelmus reigned emperour in the cite of Rome, and he +wedded to wife the Kinges doughter of Jerusalem, the +which was a faire woman and long dwelte in his company.</p> + +<p>... Happing in a certaine evening as he walked after his +supper in a fair green, and thought of all the worlde, and +especially that he had no heir, and how that the Kinge of Naples +strongly therefore noyed [harmed] him each year; and so whenne +it was night he went to bed and took a sleep and dreamed this: +He saw the firmament in its most clearnesse, and more clear +than it was wont to be, and the moon was more pale; and on a +parte of the moon was a faire-colored bird, and beside her stood +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 6266]</a></span> +two beasts, the which nourished the bird with their heat and +breath. After this came divers beasts and birds flying, and they +sang so sweetly that the emperour was with the song awaked.</p> + +<p>Thenne on the morrow the emperoure had great marvel of +his sweven [dream], and called to him divinours [soothsayers] +and lords of all the empire, and saide to them, "Deere frendes, +telleth me what is the interpretation of my sweven, and I shall +reward you; and but if ye do, ye shall be dead." And then they +saide, "Lord, show to us this dream, and we shall tell thee the +interpretation of it." And then the emperour told them as is +saide before, from beginning to ending. And then they were +glad, and with a great gladnesse spake to him and saide, "Sir, +this was a good sweven. For the firmament that thou sawe so +clear is the empire, the which henceforth shall be in prosperity; +the pale moon is the empresse.... The little bird is the +faire son whom the empresse shall bryng forth, when time +cometh; the two beasts been riche men and wise men that shall +be obedient to thy childe; the other beasts been other folke, that +never made homage and nowe shall be subject to thy sone; the +birds that sang so sweetly is the empire of Rome, that shall joy +of thy child's birth: and sir, this is the interpretacion of your +dream."</p> + +<p>When the empresse heard this she was glad enough; and soon +she bare a faire sone, and thereof was made much joy. And +when the King of Naples heard that, he thought to himselfe: +"I have longe time holden war against the emperour, and it may +not be but that it will be told to his son, when that he cometh +to his full age, howe that I have fought all my life against his +fader. Yea," thought he, "he is now a child, and it is good that +I procure for peace, that I may have rest of him when he is in +his best and I in my worste."</p> + +<p>So he wrote lettres to the emperour for peace to be had; and +the emperour seeing that he did that more for cause of dread +than of love, he sent him worde again, and saide that he would +make him surety of peace, with condition that he would be in +his servitude and yield him homage all his life, each year. +Thenne the kyng called his counsel and asked of them what was +best to do; and the lordes of his kyngdom saide that it was goode +to follow the emperour in his will:—"In the first ye aske of him +surety of peace; to that we say thus: Thou hast a doughter and +he hath a son; let matrimony be made between them, and so +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 6267]</a></span> +there shall be good sikernesse [sureness]; also it is good to make +him homage and yield him rents." Thenne the kyng sent word +to the emperour and saide that he would fulfill his will in all +points, and give his doughter to his son in wife, if that it were +pleasing to him.</p> + +<p>This answer liked well the emperour. So lettres were made +of this covenaunt; and he made a shippe to be adeyned [prepared], +to lead his doughter with a certain of knightes and ladies +to the emperour to be married with his sone. And whenne they +were in the shippe and hadde far passed from the lande, there +rose up a great horrible tempest, and drowned all that were in +the ship, except the maid. Thenne the maide set all her hope +strongly in God; and at the last the tempest ceased; but then +followed strongly a great whale to devoure this maid. And +whenne she saw that, she muche dreaded; and when the night +come, the maid, dreading that the whale would have swallowed +the ship, smote fire at a stone, and had great plenty of fire; and +as long as the fire lasted the whale durst come not near, but +about cock's crow the mayde, for great vexacion that she had +with the tempest, fell asleep, and in her sleep the fire went out; +and when it was out the whale came nigh and swallowed both +the ship and the mayde. And when the mayde felt that she was +in the womb of a whale, she smote and made great fire, and +grievously wounded the whale with a little knife, in so much +that the whale drew to the land and died; for that is the kind +to draw to the land when he shall die.</p> + +<p>And in this time there was an earl named Pirius, and he +walked in his disport by the sea, and afore him he sawe the +whale come toward the land. He gathered great help and +strength of men; and with diverse instruments they smote the +whale in every part of him. And when the damsell heard the +great strokes she cried with an high voice and saide, "Gentle +sirs, have pity on me, for I am the doughter of a king, and a +mayde have been since I was born." Whenne the earl heard +this he marveled greatly, and opened the whale and took oute +the damsell. Thenne the maide tolde by order how that she was +a kyng's doughter, and how she lost her goods in the sea, and +how she should be married to the son of the emperour. And +when the earl heard these words he was glad, and helde the +maide with him a great while, till tyme that she was well comforted; +and then he sent her solemnly to the emperour. And +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 6268]</a></span> +whenne he saw her coming, and heard that she had tribulacions +in the sea, he had great compassion for her in his heart, and +saide to her, "Goode damsell, thou hast suffered muche anger for +the love of my son; nevertheless, if that thou be worthy to have +him I shall soon prove."</p> + +<p>The emperour had made III. vessells, and the first was of +clean [pure] golde and full of precious stones outwarde, and +within full of dead bones; and it had a superscription in these +words: <i>They that choose me shall find in me that they deserve.</i> +The second vessell was all of clean silver, and full of worms: +and outwarde it had this superscription: <i>They that choose me +shall find in me that nature and kind desireth.</i> And the third +vessell was of lead and within was full of precious stones, and +without was set this scripture [inscription]: <i>They that choose me +shall find in me that God hath disposed.</i> These III. vessells +tooke the emperour and showed the maide, saying, "Lo! deer +damsell, here are three worthy vessellys, and if thou choose +[the] one of these wherein is profit and right to be chosen, then +thou shalt have my son to husband; and if thou choose that that +is not profitable to thee nor to no other, forsooth, thenne thou +shalt not have him."</p> + +<p>Whenne the doughter heard this and saw the three vessells, +she lifted up her eyes to God and saide:—"Thou, Lord, that +knowest all things, graunt me thy grace now in the need of this +time, <i>scil.</i> that I may choose at this time, wherethrough [through +which] I may joy the son of the emperour and have him to husband." +Thenne she beheld the first vessell that was so subtly +[cunningly] made, and read the superscription; and thenne she +thought, "What have I deserved for to have so precious a vessell? +and though it be never so gay without, I know not how +foul it is within;" so she tolde the emperour that she would by +no way choose that. Thenne she looked to the second, that was +of silver, and read the superscription; and thenne she said, +"My nature and kind asketh but delectation of the flesh, forsooth, +sir," quoth she; "and I refuse this." Thenne she looked +to the third, that was of lead, and read the superscription, and +then she, saide, "In sooth, God disposed never evil; forsooth, that +which God hath disposed will I take and choose."</p> + +<p>And when the emperour sawe that he saide, "Goode damesell, +open now that vessell and see what thou hast found." And +when it was opened it was full of gold and precious stones. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 6269]</a></span> +And thenne the emperour saide to her again, "Damesell, thou +hast wisely chosen and won my son to thine husband." So the +day was set of their bridal, and great joy was made; and the son +reigned after the decease of the fadir, the which made faire +ende. <i>Ad quod nos perducat!</i> Amen.</p> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">Moralite</span></h3> + +<p>Deere frendis, this emperour is the Father of Heaven, the +whiche made man ere he tooke flesh. The empress that conceived +was the blessed Virgin, that conceived by the annunciation +of the angel. The firmament was set in his most clearnesse, +<i>scil.</i> the world was lighted in all its parts by the concepcion of +the empress Our Lady.... The little bird that passed from +the side of the moon is our Lord Jesus Christ, that was born at +midnight and lapped [wrapped] in clothes and set in the crib. +The two beasts are the oxen and the asses. The beasts that +come from far parts are the herds [shepherds] to whom the +angels saide, <i>Ecce annuncio vobis gaudium magnum</i>,—"Lo! I +shew you a great joy." The birds that sang so sweetly are +angels of heaven, that sang <i>Gloria in excelsis Deo</i>. The king +that held such war is mankind, that was contrary to God while +that it was in power of the Devil; but when our Lord Jesus +Christ was born, then mankind inclined to God, and sent for +peace to be had, when he took baptism and saide that he gave +him to God and forsook the Devil. Now the king gave his +doughter to the son of the emperour, <i>scil.</i> each one of us ought +to give to God our soul in matrimony; for he is ready to receive +her to his spouse [etc.].</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="HOW_AN_ANCHORESS_WAS_TEMPTED_BY_THE_DEVIL" id="HOW_AN_ANCHORESS_WAS_TEMPTED_BY_THE_DEVIL"></a>HOW AN ANCHORESS WAS TEMPTED BY THE DEVIL</h3> + +<p>There was a woman some time in the world living that sawe +the wretchedness, the sins, and the unstableness that was in +the worlde; therefore she left all the worlde, and wente into +the deserte, and lived there many years with roots and grasse, +and such fruit as she might gete; and dranke water of the welle-spryng, +for othere livelihood had she none. Atte laste, when she +had longe dwelled there in that place, the Devil in likenesse of a +woman, come to this holy woman's place; and when he come there +he knocked at the door. The holy woman come to the door and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 6270]</a></span> +asked what she would? She saide, "I pray thee, dame, that thou +wilt harbor me this night; for this day is at an end, and I am +afeard that wild beasts should devour me." The good woman +saide, "For God's love ye are welcome to me; and take such as +God sendeth." They sat them down together, and the good +woman sat and read saints' lives and other good things, till she +come to this writing, "Every tree that bringeth not forth good +fruit shall be caste downe, and burnt in helle." "That is sooth," +saide the Fiend, "and therefore I am adread; for if we lead +oure life alone, therefore we shall have little meed, for when we +dwelle alone we profit none but oure self. Therefore it were +better, me thinketh, to go and dwelle among folke, for to give +example to man and woman dwelling in this worlde. Then shall +we have much meed." When this was saide they went to reste. +This good woman thought faste in her heart that she might not +sleep nor have no rest, for the thing that the Fiend had said. +Anon this woman arose and saide to the other woman, "This +night might I have no reste for the words that thou saide yester +even. Therefore I wot never what is best to be done for us." +Then the Devil said to her again, "It is best to go forth to profit +to othere that shall be glad of oure coming, for that is much +more worth than to live alone." Then saide the woman to the +Fiend, "Go we now forthe on oure way, for me thinketh it is not +evil to essay." And when she should go oute at the door, she +stood still, and said thus, "Now, sweet Lady, Mother of mercy, +and help at all need, now counsell me the beste, and keep me +both body and soule from deadly sin." When she had said these +words with good heart and with good will, oure Lady come and +laide her hande on her breast, and put her in again, and bade +her that she should abide there, and not be led by falsehood of +oure Enemy. The Fiend anon went away that she saw him no +more there. Then she was full fain that she was kept and not +beguiled of her enemy. Then she said on this wise to oure +Blessed Lady that is full of mercy and goodnesse, "I thanke thee +nowe with all my heart, specially for this keeping and many more +that thou hast done to me oft since; and good Lady, keep me +from henceforward." Lo! here may men and women see how +ready this good Lady is to help her servants at all their need, +when they call to her for help, that they fall not in sin bestirring +of the wicked enemy the false Fiend.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 6271]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 70%;"> +<a name="GIBBON" id="GIBBON"></a> +<span class="caption">EDWARD GIBBON.</span> +<img src="images/gibbon.jpg" width="100%" alt="EDWARD GIBBON." title="EDWARD GIBBON." /> +</div> + + +<h2><a name="EDWARD_GIBBON" id="EDWARD_GIBBON"></a>EDWARD GIBBON</h2> + +<h4>(1737-1794)</h4> + +<h4>BY W. E. H. LECKY</h4> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 90px;"> +<img src="images/capt.png" width="90" height="90" alt="T" title="T" /> +</div><p class="dropcap">he history of Gibbon has been described by John Stuart Mill +as the only eighteenth-century history that has withstood +nineteenth-century criticism; and whatever objections modern +critics may bring against some of its parts, the substantial justice +of this verdict will scarcely be contested. No other history of that +century has been so often reprinted, annotated, and discussed, or +remains to the present day a capital authority on the great period of +which it treats. As a composition it stands unchallenged and conspicuous +among the masterpieces of English literature, while as a +history it covers a space of more than twelve hundred years, including +some of the most momentous events in the annals of mankind.</p> + +<p>Gibbon was born at Putney, Surrey, April 27th, 1737. Though his +father was a member of Parliament and the owner of a moderate +competence, the author of this great work was essentially a self-educated +man. Weak health and almost constant illness in early boyhood +broke up his school life,—which appears to have been fitfully +and most imperfectly conducted,—withdrew him from boyish games, +but also gave him, as it has given to many other shy and sedentary +boys, an early and inveterate passion for reading. His reading, however, +was very unlike that of an ordinary boy. He has given a +graphic picture of the ardor with which, when he was only fourteen, +he flung himself into serious but unguided study; which was at first +purely desultory, but gradually contracted into historic lines, and +soon concentrated itself mainly on that Oriental history which he +was one day so brilliantly to illuminate. "Before I was sixteen," he +says, "I had exhausted all that could be learned in English of the +Arabs and Persians, the Tartars and Turks; and the same ardor led +me to guess at the French of D'Herbelot, and to construe the barbarous +Latin of Pocock's 'Abulfaragius.'"</p> + +<p>His health however gradually improved, and when he entered +Magdalen College, Oxford, it might have been expected that a new +period of intellectual development would have begun; but Oxford had +at this time sunk to the lowest depth of stagnation, and to Gibbon +it proved extremely uncongenial. He complained that he found no +guidance, no stimulus, and no discipline, and that the fourteen +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 6272]</a></span> +months he spent there were the most idle and unprofitable of his life. +They were very unexpectedly cut short by his conversion to the +Roman Catholic faith, which he formally adopted at the age of sixteen.</p> + +<p>This conversion is, on the whole, the most surprising incident of +his calm and uneventful life. The tendencies of the time, both in +England and on the Continent, were in a wholly different direction. +The more spiritual and emotional natures were now passing into +the religious revival of Wesley and Whitefield, which was slowly +transforming the character of the Anglican Church and laying the +foundations of the great Evangelical party. In other quarters the +predominant tendencies were towards unbelief, skepticism, or indifference. +Nature seldom formed a more skeptical intellect than that +of Gibbon, and he was utterly without the spiritual insight, or spiritual +cravings, or overmastering enthusiasms, that produce and explain most +religious changes. Nor was he in the least drawn towards Catholicism +on its aesthetic side. He had never come in contact with its +worship or its professors; and to his unimaginative, unimpassioned, +and profoundly intellectual temperament, no ideal type could be +more uncongenial than that of the saint. He had however from early +youth been keenly interested in theological controversies. He argued, +like Lardner and Paley, that miracles are the Divine attestation of +orthodoxy. Middleton convinced him that unless the Patristic writers +were wholly undeserving of credit, the gift of miracles continued in +the Church during the fourth and fifth centuries; and he was unable +to resist the conclusion that during that period many of the leading +doctrines of Catholicism had passed into the Church. The writings +of the Jesuit Parsons, and still more the writings of Bossuet, completed +the work which Middleton had begun. Having arrived at this +conclusion, Gibbon acted on it with characteristic honesty, and was +received into the Church on the 8th of June, 1753.</p> + +<p>The English universities were at this time purely Anglican bodies, +and the conversion of Gibbon excluded him from Oxford. His father +judiciously sent him to Lausanne to study with a Swiss pastor named +Pavilliard, with whom he spent five happy and profitable years. The +theological episode was soon terminated. Partly under the influence +of his teacher, but much more through his own reading and reflections, +he soon disentangled the purely intellectual ties that bound him +to the Church of Rome; and on Christmas Day, 1754, he received the +sacrament in the Protestant church of Lausanne.</p> + +<p>His residence at Lausanne was very useful to him. He had access +to books in abundance, and his tutor, who was a man of great good +sense and amiability but of no remarkable capacity, very judiciously +left his industrious pupil to pursue his studies in his own way. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 6273]</a></span> +"Hiving wisdom with each studious year," as Byron so truly says, +he speedily amassed a store of learning which has seldom been +equaled. His insatiable love of knowledge, his rare capacity for concentrated, +accurate, and fruitful study, guided by a singularly sure +and masculine judgment, soon made him, in the true sense of the +word, one of the best scholars of his time. His learning, however, was +not altogether of the kind that may be found in a great university +professor. Though the classical languages became familiar to him, he +never acquired or greatly valued the minute and finished scholarship +which is the boast of the chief English schools; and careful students +have observed that in following Greek books he must have very largely +used the Latin translations. Perhaps in his capacity of historian this +deficiency was rather an advantage than the reverse. It saved him +from the exaggerated value of classical form, and from the neglect of +the more corrupt literatures, to which English scholars have been often +prone. Gibbon always valued books mainly for what they contained, +and he had early learned the lesson which all good historians should +learn: that some of his most valuable materials will be found in literatures +that have no artistic merit; in writers who, without theory +and almost without criticism, simply relate the facts which they have +seen, and express in unsophisticated language the beliefs and impressions +of their time.</p> + +<p>Lausanne and not Oxford was the real birthplace of his intellect, +and he returned from it almost a foreigner. French had become as +familiar to him as his own tongue; and his first book, a somewhat +superficial essay on the study of literature, was published in the +French language. The noble contemporary French literature filled +him with delight, and he found on the borders of the Lake of Geneva +a highly cultivated society to which he was soon introduced, and +which probably gave him more real pleasure than any in which +he afterwards moved. With Voltaire himself he had some slight +acquaintance, and he at one time looked on him with profound admiration; +though fuller knowledge made him sensible of the flaws +in that splendid intellect. I am here concerned with the life of Gibbon +only in as far as it discloses the influences that contributed to +his master work, and among these influences the foreign element +holds a prominent place. There was little in Gibbon that was distinctively +English; his mind was essentially cosmopolitan. His tastes, +ideals, and modes of thought and feeling turned instinctively to the +Continent.</p> + +<p>In one respect this foreign type was of great advantage to his work. +Gibbon excels all other English historians in symmetry, proportion, +perspective, and arrangement, which are also the pre-eminent and +characteristic merits of the best French literature. We find in his +writing nothing of the great miscalculations of space that were made +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 6274]</a></span> +by such writers as Macaulay and Buckle; nothing of the awkward +repetitions, the confused arrangement, the semi-detached and disjointed +episodes that mar the beauty of many other histories of no +small merit. Vast and multifarious as are the subjects which he +has treated, his work is a great whole, admirably woven in all its +parts. On the other hand, his foreign taste may perhaps be seen in +his neglect of the Saxon element, which is the most vigorous and +homely element in English prose. Probably in no other English +writer does the Latin element so entirely predominate. Gibbon never +wrote an unmeaning and very seldom an obscure sentence; he could +always paint with sustained and stately eloquence an illustrious character +or a splendid scene: but he was wholly wanting in the grace of +simplicity, and a monotony of glitter and of mannerism is the great +defect of his style. He possessed, to a degree which even Tacitus +and Bacon had hardly surpassed, the supreme literary gift of condensation, +and it gives an admirable force and vividness to his narrative; +but it is sometimes carried to excess. Not unfrequently it +is attained by an excessive allusiveness, and a wide knowledge of +the subject is needed to enable the reader to perceive the full import +and meaning conveyed or hinted at by a mere turn of phrase. +But though his style is artificial and pedantic, and greatly wanting +in flexibility, it has a rare power of clinging to the memory, and it +has profoundly influenced English prose. That excellent judge Cardinal +Newman has said of Gibbon, "I seem to trace his vigorous +condensation and peculiar rhythm at every turn in the literature +of the present day."</p> + +<p>It is not necessary to relate here in any detail the later events of +the life of Gibbon. There was his enlistment as captain in the +Hampshire militia. It involved two and a half years of active service, +extending from May 1760 to December 1762; and as Gibbon +afterwards acknowledged, if it interrupted his studies and brought +him into very uncongenial duties and societies, it at least greatly enlarged +his acquaintance with English life, and also gave him a +knowledge of the rudiments of military science, which was not without +its use to the historian of so many battles. There was a long +journey, lasting for two years and five months, in France and Italy, +which greatly confirmed his foreign tendencies. In Paris he moved +familiarly in some of the best French literary society; and in Rome, +as he tells us in a well-known passage, while he sat "musing amidst +the ruins of the Capitol while the barefooted friars were singing +vespers in the Temple of Jupiter" (which is now the Church of the +Ara Cœli),—on October 15th, 1764,—he first conceived the idea of +writing the history of the decline and fall of Rome.</p> + +<p>There was also that very curious episode in his life, lasting from +1774 to 1782,—his appearance in the House of Commons. He had +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 6275]</a></span> +declined an offer of his father's to purchase a seat for him in 1760; +and fourteen years later, when his father was dead, when his own +circumstances were considerably contracted, he received and accepted +at the hands of a family connection the offer of a seat. His Parliamentary +career was entirely undistinguished, and he never even +opened his mouth in debate,—a fact which was not forgotten when +very recently another historian was candidate for a seat in Parliament. +In truth, this somewhat shy and reserved scholar, with his +fastidious taste, his eminently judicial mind, and his highly condensed +and elaborate style, was singularly unfit for the rough work of Parliamentary +discussion. No one can read his books without perceiving +that his English was not that of a debater; and he has candidly +admitted that he entered Parliament without public spirit or serious +interest in politics, and that he valued it chiefly as leading to an +office which might restore the fortune which the extravagance of his +father had greatly impaired. His only real public service was the +composition in French of a reply to the French manifesto which was +issued at the beginning of the war of 1778. He voted steadily and +placidly as a Tory, and it is not probable that in doing so he did any +violence to his opinions. Like Hume, he shrank with an instinctive +dislike from all popular agitations, from all turbulence, passion, exaggeration, +and enthusiasm; and a temperate and well-ordered despotism +was evidently his ideal. He showed it in the well-known passage in +which he extols the benevolent despotism of the Antonines as without +exception the happiest period in the history of mankind, and in +the unmixed horror with which he looked upon the French Revolution +that broke up the old landmarks of Europe, For three years he +held an office in the Board of Trade, which added considerably to his +income without adding greatly to his labors, and he supported steadily +the American policy of Lord North and the Coalition ministry of +North and Fox; but the loss of his office and the retirement of North +soon drove him from Parliament, and he shortly after took up his +residence at Lausanne.</p> + +<p>But before this time a considerable part of his great work had been +accomplished. The first quarto volume of the 'Decline and Fall' appeared +in February 1776. As is usually the case with historical works, +it occupied a much longer period than its successors, and was the +fruit of about ten years of labor. It passed rapidly through three +editions, received the enthusiastic eulogy of Hume and Robertson, +and was no doubt greatly assisted in its circulation by the storm +of controversy that arose about his Fifteenth and Sixteenth Chapters. +In April 1781 two more volumes appeared, and the three concluding +volumes were published together on the 8th of May, 1788, being the +fifty-first birthday of the author.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 6276]</a></span></p> + +<p>A work of such magnitude, dealing with so vast a variety of subjects, +was certain to exhibit some flaws. The controversy at first +turned mainly upon its religious tendency. The complete skepticism +of the author, his aversion to the ecclesiastical type which dominated +in the period of which he wrote, and his unalterable conviction that +Christianity, by diverting the strength and enthusiasm of the Empire +from civic into ascetic and ecclesiastical channels, was a main cause +of the downfall of the Empire and of the triumph of barbarism, gave +him a bias which it was impossible to overlook. On no other subject +is his irony more bitter or his contempt so manifestly displayed. Few +good critics will deny that the growth of the ascetic spirit had a +large part in corroding and enfeebling the civic virtues of the Empire; +but the part which it played was that of intensifying a disease that +had already begun, and Gibbon, while exaggerating the amount of +the evil, has very imperfectly described the great services rendered +even by a monastic Church in laying the basis of another civilization +and in mitigating the calamities of the barbarian invasion. The +causes he has given of the spread of Christianity in the Fifteenth +Chapter were for the most part true causes, but there were others of +which he was wholly insensible. The strong moral enthusiasms that +transform the character and inspire or accelerate all great religious +changes lay wholly beyond the sphere of his realizations. His language +about the Christian martyrs is the most repulsive portion of +his work; and his comparison of the sufferings caused by pagan and +Christian persecutions is greatly vitiated by the fact that he only +takes account of the number of deaths, and lays no stress on the profuse +employment of atrocious tortures, which was one of the most +distinct features of the pagan persecutions. At the same time, though +Gibbon displays in this field a manifest and a distorting bias, he +never, like some of his French contemporaries, sinks into the mere +partisan, awarding to one side unqualified eulogy and to the other +unqualified contempt. Let the reader who doubts this examine and +compare his masterly portraits of Julian and of Athanasius, and he +will perceive how clearly the great historian could recognize weaknesses +in the characters by which he was most attracted, and elements +of true greatness in those by which he was most repelled. A +modern writer, in treating of the history of religions, would have +given a larger space to comparative religion, and to the gradual, unconscious, +and spontaneous growth of myths in the twilight periods of +the human mind. These however were subjects which were scarcely +known in the days of Gibbon, and he cannot be blamed for not having +discussed them.</p> + +<p>Another class of objections which has been brought against him is +that he is weak upon the philosophical side, and deals with history +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 6277]</a></span> +mainly as a mere chronicle of events, and not as a chain of causes +and consequences, a series of problems to be solved, a gradual evolution +which it is the task of the historian to explain. Coleridge, who +detested Gibbon and spoke of him with gross injustice, has put this +objection in the strongest form. He accuses him of having reduced +history to a mere collection of splendid anecdotes; of noting nothing +but what may produce an effect; of skipping from eminence to eminence +without ever taking his readers through the valleys between; of +having never made a single philosophical attempt to fathom the ultimate +causes of the decline and fall of the Roman Empire, which is +the very subject of his history. That such charges are grossly exaggerated +will be apparent to any one who will carefully read the Second +and Third Chapters, describing the state and tendencies of the +Empire under the Antonines; or the chapters devoted to the rise and +character of the barbarians, to the spread of Christianity, to the influence +of monasticism, to the jurisprudence of the republic and of the +Empire; nor would it be difficult to collect many acute and profound +philosophical remarks from other portions of the history. Still, it +may be admitted that the philosophical side is not its strongest part. +Social and economical changes are sometimes inadequately examined +and explained, and we often desire fuller information about the +manners and life of the masses of the people. As far as concerns +the age of the Antonines, this want has been amply supplied by the +great work of Friedländer.</p> + +<p>History, like many other things in our generation, has fallen +largely into the hands of specialists; and it is inevitable that men +who have devoted their lives to a minute examination of short +periods should be able to detect some deficiencies and errors in a +writer who traversed a period of more than twelve hundred years. +Many generations of scholars have arisen since Gibbon; many new +sources of knowledge have become available, and archæology especially +has thrown a flood of new light on some of the subjects he +treated. Though his knowledge and his narrative are on the whole +admirably sustained, there are periods which he knew less well and +treated less fully than others. His account of the Crusades is generally +acknowledged to be one of the most conspicuous of these, and +within the last few years there has arisen a school of historians who +protest against the low opinion of the Byzantine Empire which was +held by Gibbon, and was almost universal among scholars till the +present generation. That these writers have brought into relief certain +merits of the Lower Empire which Gibbon had neglected, will +not be denied; but it is perhaps too early to decide whether the reaction +has not, like most reactions, been carried to extravagance, and +whether in its general features the estimate of Gibbon is not nearer +the truth than some of those which are now put forward to replace it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 6278]</a></span></p> + +<p>Much must no doubt be added to the work of Gibbon in order to +bring it up to the level of our present knowledge; but there is no +sign that any single work is likely to supersede it or to render it useless +to the student; nor does its survival depend only or even mainly +on its great literary qualities, which have made it one of the classics +of the language. In some of these qualities Hume was the equal of +Gibbon and in others his superior, and he brought to his history a +more penetrating and philosophical intellect and an equally calm and +unenthusiastic nature; but the study which Hume bestowed on his +subject was so superficial and his statements were often so inaccurate, +that his work is now never quoted as an authority. With Gibbon +it is quite otherwise. His marvelous industry, his almost unrivaled +accuracy of detail, his sincere love of truth, his rare discrimination +and insight in weighing testimony and in judging character, have +given him a secure place among the greatest historians of the world.</p> + +<p>His life lasted only fifty-six years; he died in London on January +15th, 1794. With a single exception his history is his only work of real +importance. That exception is his admirable autobiography. Gibbon +left behind him six distinct sketches, which his friend Lord Sheffield +put together with singular skill. It is one of the best specimens of +self-portraiture in the language, reflecting with pellucid clearness both +the life and character, the merits and defects, of its author. He was +certainly neither a hero nor a saint; nor did he possess the moral +and intellectual qualities that dominate in the great conflicts of life, +sway the passions of men, appeal powerfully to the imagination, or +dazzle and impress in social intercourse. He was a little slow, a little +pompous, a little affected and pedantic. In the general type of his +mind and character he bore much more resemblance to Hume, Adam +Smith, or Reynolds, than to Johnson or Burke. A reserved scholar, +who was rather proud of being a man of the world; a confirmed +bachelor, much wedded to his comforts though caring nothing for luxury, +he was eminently moderate in his ambitions, and there was not +a trace of passion or enthusiasm in his nature. Such a man was not +likely to inspire any strong devotion. But his temper was most +kindly, equable, and contented; he was a steady friend, and he appears +to have been always liked and honored in the cultivated and +uncontentious society in which he delighted. His life was not a great +one, but it was in all essentials blameless and happy. He found the +work which was most congenial to him. He pursued it with admirable +industry and with brilliant success, and he left behind him a +book which is not likely to be forgotten while the English language +endures.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/sign040.png" width="300" height="89" alt="W. E. H. Lecky" title="W. E. H. Lecky" /> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 6279]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="ZENOBIA" id="ZENOBIA"></a>ZENOBIA</h3> + +<p>Aurelian had no sooner secured the person and provinces of +Tetricus, than he turned his arms against Zenobia, the celebrated +queen of Palmyra and the East. Modern Europe has +produced several illustrious women who have sustained with glory +the weight of empire; nor is our own age destitute of such distinguished +characters. But if we except the doubtful achievements +of Semiramis, Zenobia is perhaps the only female whose +superior genius broke through the servile indolence imposed on +her sex by the climate and manners of Asia. She claimed her +descent from the Macedonian kings of Egypt, equaled in beauty +her ancestor Cleopatra, and far surpassed that princess in chastity +and valor. Zenobia was esteemed the most lovely as well as the +most heroic of her sex. She was of a dark complexion (for in +speaking of a lady these trifles become important). Her teeth +were of a pearly whiteness, and her large black eyes sparkled +with uncommon fire, tempered by the most attractive sweetness. +Her voice was strong and harmonious. Her manly understanding +was strengthened and adorned by study. She was not ignorant +of the Latin tongue, but possessed in equal perfection the +Greek, the Syriac, and the Egyptian languages. She had drawn +up for her own use an epitome of Oriental history, and familiarly +compared the beauties of Homer and Plato under the tuition of +the sublime Longinus.</p> + +<p>This accomplished woman gave her hand to Odenathus, who, +from a private station, raised himself to the dominion of the +East. She soon became the friend and companion of a hero. In +the intervals of war, Odenathus passionately delighted in the exercise +of hunting; he pursued with ardor the wild beasts of the +desert,—lions, panthers, and bears; and the ardor of Zenobia in +that dangerous amusement was not inferior to his own. She had +inured her constitution to fatigue, disdained the use of a covered +carriage, generally appeared on horseback in a military habit, and +sometimes marched several miles on foot at the head of the +troops. The success of Odenathus was in a great measure ascribed +to her incomparable prudence and fortitude. Their splendid +victories over the Great King, whom they twice pursued as +far as the gates of Ctesiphon, laid the foundations of their united +fame and power. The armies which they commanded, and the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 6280]</a></span> +provinces which they had saved, acknowledged not any other sovereigns +than their invincible chiefs. The Senate and people of +Rome revered a stranger who had avenged their captive emperor, +and even the insensible son of Valerian accepted Odenathus +for his legitimate colleague.</p> + +<p>After a successful expedition against the Gothic plunderers of +Asia, the Palmyrenian prince returned to the city of Emesa in +Syria. Invincible in war, he was there cut off by domestic treason; +and his favorite amusement of hunting was the cause, or at +least the occasion, of his death. His nephew Mæonius presumed +to dart his javelin before that of his uncle; and though admonished +of his error, repeated the same insolence. As a monarch +and as a sportsman, Odenathus was provoked, took away his +horse, a mark of ignominy among the barbarians, and chastised +the rash youth by a short confinement. The offense was soon forgot, +but the punishment was remembered; and Mæonius, with a +few daring associates, assassinated his uncle in the midst of a +great entertainment. Herod, the son of Odenathus, though not of +Zenobia, a young man of a soft and effeminate temper, was killed +with his father. But Mæonius obtained only the pleasure of +revenge by this bloody deed. He had scarcely time to assume +the title of Augustus, before he was sacrificed by Zenobia to +the memory of her husband.</p> + +<p>With the assistance of his most faithful friends, she immediately +filled the vacant throne, and governed with manly counsels +Palmyra, Syria, and the East, above five years. By the death of +Odenathus, that authority was at an end which the Senate had +granted him only as a personal distinction; but his martial +widow, disdaining both the Senate and Gallienus, obliged one of +the Roman generals who was sent against her to retreat into +Europe, with the loss of his army and his reputation. Instead of +the little passions which so frequently perplex a female reign, the +steady administration of Zenobia was guided by the most judicious +maxims of policy. If it was expedient to pardon, she could calm +her resentment; if it was necessary to punish, she could impose +silence on the voice of pity. Her strict economy was accused of +avarice; yet on every proper occasion she appeared magnificent +and liberal. The neighboring States of Arabia, Armenia, and +Persia dreaded her enmity and solicited her alliance. To the +dominions of Odenathus, which extended from the Euphrates to +the frontiers of Bithynia, his widow added the inheritance of her +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 6281]</a></span> +ancestors, the populous and fertile kingdom of Egypt. The Emperor +Claudius acknowledged her merit, and was content that +while <i>he</i> pursued the Gothic war, <i>she</i> should assert the dignity of +the Empire in the East. The conduct however of Zenobia was +attended with some ambiguity, nor is it unlikely that she had +conceived the design of erecting an independent and hostile monarchy. +She blended with the popular manners of Roman princes +the stately pomp of the courts of Asia, and exacted from her subjects +the same adoration that was paid to the successors of Cyrus. +She bestowed on her three sons a Latin education, and often +showed them to the troops adorned with the imperial purple. +For herself she reserved the diadem, with the splendid but doubtful +title of Queen of the East.</p> + +<p>When Aurelian passed over into Asia against an adversary +whose sex alone could render her an object of contempt, his +presence restored obedience to the province of Bithynia, already +shaken by the arms and intrigues of Zenobia. Advancing at the +head of his legions, he accepted the submission of Ancyra, and +was admitted into Tyana, after an obstinate siege, by the help +of a perfidious citizen. The generous though fierce temper of +Aurelian abandoned the traitor to the rage of the soldiers: a +superstitious reverence induced him to treat with lenity the countrymen +of Apollonius the philosopher. Antioch was deserted on +his approach, till the Emperor, by his salutary edicts, recalled the +fugitives, and granted a general pardon to all who from necessity +rather than choice had been engaged in the service of the +Palmyrenian Queen. The unexpected mildness of such a conduct +reconciled the minds of the Syrians, and as far as the gates of +Emesa the wishes of the people seconded the terror of his arms.</p> + +<p>Zenobia would have ill deserved her reputation, had she indolently +permitted the Emperor of the West to approach within a +hundred miles of her capital. The fate of the East was decided +in two great battles, so similar in almost every circumstance +that we can scarcely distinguish them from each other, except by +observing that the first was fought near Antioch and the second +near Emesa. In both the Queen of Palmyra animated the armies +by her presence, and devolved the execution of her orders on +Zabdas, who had already signalized his military talents by the +conquest of Egypt. The numerous forces of Zenobia consisted +for the most part of light archers, and of heavy cavalry clothed +in complete steel. The Moorish and Illyrian horse of Aurelian +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 6282]</a></span> +were unable to sustain the ponderous charge of their antagonists. +They fled in real or affected disorder, engaged the Palmyrenians +in a laborious pursuit, harassed them by a desultory combat, and +at length discomfited this impenetrable but unwieldy body of +cavalry. The light infantry, in the mean time, when they had +exhausted their quivers, remaining without protection against a +closer onset, exposed their naked sides to the swords of the +legions. Aurelian had chosen these veteran troops, who were +usually stationed on the Upper Danube, and whose valor had +been severely tried in the Alemannic war. After the defeat of +Emesa, Zenobia found it impossible to collect a third army. As +far as the frontier of Egypt, the nations subject to her empire +had joined the standard of the conqueror, who detached Probus, +the bravest of his generals, to possess himself of the Egyptian +provinces. Palmyra was the last resource of the widow of +Odenathus. She retired within the walls of her capital, made +every preparation for a vigorous resistance, and declared, with the +intrepidity of a heroine, that the last moment of her reign and +of her life should be the same.</p> + +<p>Amid the barren deserts of Arabia, a few cultivated spots rise +like islands out of the sandy ocean. Even the name of Tadmor, +or Palmyra, by its signification in the Syriac as well as in the +Latin language, denoted the multitude of palm-trees which +afforded shade and verdure to that temperate region. The air +was pure, and the soil, watered by some invaluable springs, was +capable of producing fruits as well as corn. A place possessed +of such singular advantages, and situated at a convenient distance +between the Gulf of Persia and the Mediterranean,<a name="FNanchor_A_3" id="FNanchor_A_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_3" class="fnanchor">[C]</a> was +soon frequented by the caravans which conveyed to the nations +of Europe a considerable part of the rich commodities of India. +Palmyra insensibly increased into an opulent and independent +city, and connecting the Roman and the Parthian monarchies +by the mutual benefits of commerce, was suffered to observe a +humble neutrality, till at length after the victories of Trajan +the little republic sunk into the bosom of Rome, and flourished +more than one hundred and fifty years in the subordinate though +honorable rank of a colony. It was during that peaceful period, +if we may judge from a few remaining inscriptions, that the +wealthy Palmyrenians constructed those temples, palaces, and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 6283]</a></span> +porticos of Grecian architecture whose ruins, scattered over an +extent of several miles, have deserved the curiosity of our travelers. +The elevation of Odenathus and Zenobia appeared to reflect +new splendor on their country, and Palmyra for a while stood +forth the rival of Rome: but the competition was fatal, and ages +of prosperity were sacrificed to a moment of glory.</p> + + +<p>In his march over the sandy desert between Emesa and Palmyra, +the Emperor Aurelian was perpetually harassed by the +Arabs; nor could he always defend his army, and especially his +baggage, from those flying troops of active and daring robbers +who watched the moment of surprise and eluded the slow pursuit +of the legions. The siege of Palmyra was an object far +more difficult and important, and the Emperor, who with incessant +vigor pressed the attacks in person, was himself wounded +with a dart. "The Roman people," says Aurelian, in an original +letter, "speak with contempt of the war which I am waging +against a woman. They are ignorant both of the character and +of the power of Zenobia. It is impossible to enumerate her warlike +preparations of stones, of arrows, and of every species of +missile weapons. Every part of the walls is provided with two +or three <i>balistæ</i>, and artificial fires are thrown from her military +engines. The fear of punishment has armed her with a desperate +courage. Yet still I trust in the protecting deities of Rome, who +have hitherto been favorable to all my undertakings." Doubtful, +however, of the protection of the gods and of the event of the +siege, Aurelian judged it more prudent to offer terms of an advantageous +capitulation: to the Queen, a splendid retreat; to the +citizens, their ancient privileges. His proposals were obstinately +rejected, and the refusal was accompanied with insult.</p> + +<p>The firmness of Zenobia was supported by the hope that in a +very short time famine would compel the Roman army to repass +the desert, and by the reasonable expectation that the kings of +the East, and particularly the Persian monarch, would arm in the +defense of their most natural ally. But fortune and the perseverance +of Aurelian overcame every obstacle. The death of Sapor, +which happened about this time, distracted the counsels of Persia, +and the inconsiderable succors that attempted to relieve Palmyra +were easily intercepted either by the arms or the liberality of +the Emperor. From every part of Syria a regular succession of +convoys safely arrived in the camp, which was increased by the +return of Probus with his victorious troops from the conquest of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 6284]</a></span> +Egypt. It was then that Zenobia resolved to fly. She mounted +the fleetest of her dromedaries, and had already reached the banks +of the Euphrates, about sixty miles from Palmyra, when she was +overtaken by the pursuit of Aurelian's light horse, seized, and +brought back a captive to the feet of the Emperor. Her capital +soon afterwards surrendered, and was treated with unexpected +lenity. The arms, horses, and camels, with an immense treasure +of gold, silver, silk, and precious stones, were all delivered to the +conqueror, who, leaving only a garrison of six hundred archers, +returned to Emesa and employed some time in the distribution +of rewards and punishments at the end of so memorable a war, +which restored to the obedience of Rome those provinces that had +renounced their allegiance since the captivity of Valerian.</p> + +<p>When the Syrian Queen was brought into the presence of +Aurelian he sternly asked her, How she had presumed to rise in +arms against the emperors of Rome! The answer of Zenobia was +a prudent mixture of respect and firmness: "Because I disdained +to consider as Roman emperors an Aureolus or a Gallienus. You +alone I acknowledge as my conqueror and my sovereign." But +as female fortitude is commonly artificial, so it is seldom steady +or consistent. The courage of Zenobia deserted her in the hour +of trial; she trembled at the angry clamors of the soldiers, who +called aloud for her immediate execution, forgot the generous +despair of Cleopatra which she had proposed as her model, and +ignominiously purchased life by the sacrifice of her fame and her +friends. It was to their counsels, which governed the weakness +of her sex, that she imputed the guilt of her obstinate resistance; +it was on their heads that she directed the vengeance of the cruel +Aurelian. The fame of Longinus, who was included among the +numerous and perhaps innocent victims of her fear, will survive +that of the Queen who betrayed or the tyrant who condemned +him. Genius and learning were incapable of moving a fierce +unlettered soldier, but they had served to elevate and harmonize +the soul of Longinus. Without uttering a complaint he calmly +followed the executioner, pitying his unhappy mistress, and bestowing +comfort on his afflicted friends....</p> + +<p>But, however in the treatment of his unfortunate rivals Aurelian +might indulge his pride, he behaved towards them with a +generous clemency which was seldom exercised by the ancient +conquerors. Princes who without success had defended their +throne or freedom, were frequently strangled in prison as soon +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 6285]</a></span> +as the triumphal pomp ascended the Capitol. These usurpers, +whom their defeat had convicted of the crime of treason, were +permitted to spend their lives in affluence and honorable repose. +The Emperor presented Zenobia with an elegant villa at Tibur, +or Tivoli, about twenty miles from the capital; the Syrian queen +insensibly sunk into a Roman matron, her daughters married into +noble families, and her race was not yet extinct in the fifth century.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="FOUNDATION_OF_CONSTANTINOPLE" id="FOUNDATION_OF_CONSTANTINOPLE"></a>FOUNDATION OF CONSTANTINOPLE</h3> + +<p>We are at present qualified to view the advantageous position +of Constantinople, which appears to have been formed by +nature for the centre and capital of a great monarchy. +Situated in the forty-first degree of latitude, the imperial city +commanded from her seven hills the opposite shores of Europe +and Asia; the climate was healthy and temperate, the soil fertile, +the harbor secure and capacious; and the approach on the side of +the continent was of small extent and easy defense. The Bosphorus +and the Hellespont may be considered as the two gates +of Constantinople; and the prince who possessed those important +passages could always shut them against a naval enemy and open +them to the fleets of commerce. The preservation of the eastern +provinces may in some degree be ascribed to the policy of Constantine, +as the barbarians of the Euxine, who in the preceding +age had poured their armaments into the heart of the Mediterranean, +soon desisted from the exercise of piracy, and despaired +of forcing this insurmountable barrier. When the gates of the +Hellespont and Bosphorus were shut, the capital still enjoyed +within their spacious inclosure every production which could supply +the wants or gratify the luxury of its numerous inhabitants. +The sea-coasts of Thrace and Bithynia, which languish under the +weight of Turkish oppression, still exhibit a rich prospect of +vineyards, of gardens, and of plentiful harvests; and the Propontis +has ever been renowned for an inexhaustible store of the +most exquisite fish, that are taken in their stated seasons without +skill and almost without labor. But when the passages of +the straits were thrown open for trade, they alternately admitted +the natural and artificial riches of the North and South, of the +Euxine and of the Mediterranean. Whatever rude commodities +were collected in the forests of Germany and Scythia, as far as +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 6286]</a></span> +the sources of the Tanais and the Borysthenes; whatsoever was +manufactured by the skill of Europe or Asia; the corn of Egypt, +and the gems and spices of the farthest India, were brought by +the varying winds into the port of Constantinople, which for +many ages attracted the commerce of the ancient world.</p> + +<p>The prospect of beauty, of safety, and of wealth, united in a +single spot, was sufficient to justify the choice of Constantine. +But as some decent mixture of prodigy and fable has in every +age been supposed to reflect a becoming majesty on the origin +of great cities, the Emperor was desirous of ascribing his resolution, +not so much to the uncertain counsels of human policy as +to the infallible and eternal decrees of Divine wisdom. In one of +his laws he has been careful to instruct posterity that in obedience +to the commands of God he laid the everlasting foundations +of Constantinople: and though he has not condescended to relate +in what manner the celestial inspiration was communicated to his +mind, the defect of his modest silence has been liberally supplied +by the ingenuity of succeeding writers, who describe the +nocturnal vision which appeared to the fancy of Constantine as +he slept within the walls of Byzantium. The tutelar genius of +the city, a venerable matron sinking under the weight of years +and infirmities, was suddenly transformed into a blooming maid, +whom his own hands adorned with all the symbols of imperial +greatness. The monarch awoke, interpreted the auspicious omen, +and obeyed without hesitation the will of Heaven. The day +which gave birth to a city or colony was celebrated by the Romans +with such ceremonies as had been ordained by a generous +superstition; and though Constantine might omit some rites which +savored too strongly of their pagan origin, yet he was anxious to +leave a deep impression of hope and respect on the minds of the +spectators. On foot, with a lance in his hand, the Emperor himself +led the solemn procession, and directed the line which was +traced as the boundary of the destined capital; till the growing +circumference was observed with astonishment by the assistants, +who at length ventured to observe that he had already exceeded +the most ample measure of a great city. "I shall still advance," +replied Constantine, "till <span class="smcap">He</span>, the invisible guide who marches +before me, thinks proper to stop." Without presuming to investigate +the nature or motives of this extraordinary conductor, we +shall content ourselves with the more humble task of describing +the extent and limits of Constantinople.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 6287]</a></span></p> + +<p>In the actual state of the city, the palace and gardens of the +Seraglio occupy the eastern promontory, the first of the seven +hills, and cover about one hundred and fifty acres of our own +measure. The seat of Turkish jealousy and despotism is erected +on the foundations of a Grecian republic; but it may be supposed +that the Byzantines were tempted by the conveniency of the harbor +to extend their habitations on that side beyond the modern +limits of the Seraglio. The new walls of Constantine stretched +from the port to the Propontis across the enlarged breadth of the +triangle, at a distance of fifteen stadia from the ancient fortification; +and with the city of Byzantium they inclosed five of the +seven hills which, to the eyes of those who approach Constantinople, +appear to rise above each other in beautiful order. About +a century after the death of the founder, the new buildings, extending +on one side up the harbor and on the other along the +Propontis, already covered the narrow ridge of the sixth and the +broad summit of the seventh hill. The necessity of protecting +those suburbs from the incessant inroads of the barbarians engaged +the younger Theodosius to surround his capital with an +adequate and permanent inclosure of walls. From the eastern +promontory to the Golden Gate, the extreme length of Constantinople +was about three Roman miles; the circumference measured +between ten and eleven, and the surface might be computed as +equal to about two thousand English acres. It is impossible to +justify the vain and credulous exaggerations of modern travelers, +who have sometimes stretched the limits of Constantinople over +the adjacent villages of the European, and even of the Asiatic +coast. But the suburbs of Pera and Galata, though situate beyond +the harbor, may deserve to be considered as a part of the +city; and this addition may perhaps authorize the measure of a +Byzantine historian, who assigns sixteen Greek (about fourteen +Roman) miles for the circumference of his native city. Such an +extent may not seem unworthy of an imperial residence. Yet +Constantinople must yield to Babylon and Thebes, to ancient +Rome, to London, and even to Paris.</p> + +<p>The master of the Roman world, who aspired to erect an +eternal monument of the glories of his reign, could employ in +the prosecution of that great work the wealth, the labor, and all +that yet remained of the genius of obedient millions. Some estimate +may be formed of the expense bestowed with imperial liberality +on the foundation of Constantinople, by the allowance of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 6288]</a></span> +about two millions five hundred thousand pounds for the construction +of the walls, the porticos, and the aqueducts. The +forests that overshadowed the shores of the Euxine, and the +celebrated quarries of white marble in the little island of Proconnesus, +supplied an inexhaustible stock of materials, ready to be +conveyed, by the convenience of a short water carriage, to the +harbor of Byzantium. A multitude of laborers and artificers +urged the conclusion of the work with incessant toil; but the impatience +of Constantine soon discovered that, in the decline of the +arts, the skill as well as numbers of his architects bore a very +unequal proportion to the greatness of his designs. The magistrates +of the most distant provinces were therefore directed to +institute schools, to appoint professors, and by the hopes of +rewards and privileges to engage in the study and practice of +architecture a sufficient number of ingenious youths who had +received a liberal education. The buildings of the new city were +executed by such artificers as the reign of Constantine could +afford; but they were decorated by the hands of the most celebrated +masters of the age of Pericles and Alexander. To revive +the genius of Phidias and Lysippus surpassed indeed the power +of a Roman emperor; but the immortal productions which they +had bequeathed to posterity were exposed without defense to the +rapacious vanity of a despot. By his commands the cities of +Greece and Asia were despoiled of their most valuable ornaments. +The trophies of memorable wars, the objects of religious +veneration, the most finished statues of the gods and heroes, of +the sages and poets of ancient times, contributed to the splendid +triumph of Constantinople, and gave occasion to the remark +of the historian Cedrenus, who observes with some enthusiasm +that nothing seemed wanting except the souls of the illustrious +men whom these admirable monuments were intended to represent. +But it is not in the city of Constantine, nor in the declining +period of an empire, when the human mind was depressed +by civil and religious slavery, that we should seek for the souls +of Homer and of Demosthenes.</p> + +<p>During the siege of Byzantium, the conqueror had pitched his +tent on the commanding eminence of the second hill. To perpetuate +the memory of his success, he chose the same advantageous +position for the principal Forum, which appears to have +been of a circular or rather elliptical form. The two opposite +entrances formed triumphal arches; the porticos which inclosed +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 6289]</a></span> +it on every side were filled with statues; and the centre of the +Forum was occupied by a lofty column, of which a mutilated +fragment is now degraded by the appellation of the <i>burnt pillar</i>. +This column was erected on a pedestal of white marble twenty +feet high, and was composed of ten pieces of porphyry, each of +which measured about ten feet in height and about thirty-three +in circumference. On the summit of the pillar, above one hundred +and twenty feet from the ground, stood the colossal statue +of Apollo. It was of bronze, had been transported either from +Athens or from a town of Phrygia, and was supposed to be the +work of Phidias. The artist had represented the god of day, or +as it was afterwards interpreted, the Emperor Constantine himself +with a sceptre in his right hand, the globe of the world in +his left, and a crown of rays glittering on his head. The Circus, +or Hippodrome, was a stately building about four hundred paces +in length and one hundred in breadth. The space between the +two <i>metæ</i> or goals was filled with statues and obelisks; and we +may still remark a very singular fragment of antiquity—the +bodies of three serpents twisted into one pillar of brass. Their +triple heads had once supported the golden tripod which, after +the defeat of Xerxes, was consecrated in the temple of Delphi +by the victorious Greeks. The beauty of the Hippodrome has +been long since defaced by the rude hands of the Turkish conquerors; +but under the similar appellation of Atmeidan, it still +serves as a place of exercise for their horses. From the throne +whence the Emperor viewed the Circensian games, a winding +staircase descended to the palace: a magnificent edifice which +scarcely yielded to the residence of Rome itself, and which, together +with the dependent courts, gardens, and porticos, covered +a considerable extent of ground upon the banks of the Propontis +between the Hippodrome and the church of St. Sophia. We +might likewise celebrate the baths, which still retained the name +of Zeuxippus, after they had been enriched by the munificence +of Constantine with lofty columns, various marbles, and above +threescore statues of bronze. But we should deviate from the +design of this history if we attempted minutely to describe the +different buildings or quarters of the city. It may be sufficient +to observe that whatever could adorn the dignity of a great +capital, or contribute to the benefit or pleasure of its numerous +inhabitants, was contained within the walls of Constantinople. +A particular description, composed about a century after its +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 6290]</a></span> +foundation, enumerates a capitol or school of learning, a circus, +two theatres, eight public and one hundred and fifty-three private +baths, fifty-two porticos, five granaries, eight aqueducts or reservoirs +of water, four spacious halls for the meetings of the senate +or courts of justice, fourteen churches, fourteen palaces, and four +thousand three hundred and eighty-eight houses which for their +size or beauty deserved to be distinguished from the multitude +of plebeian habitations.</p> + +<p>The populousness of his favored city was the next and most +serious object of the attention of its founder. In the dark ages +which succeeded the translation of the empire, the remote and +the immediate consequences of that memorable event were +strangely confounded by the vanity of the Greeks and the credulity +of the Latins. It was asserted and believed that all the +noble families of Rome, the Senate, and the equestrian order, +with their innumerable attendants, had followed their Emperor +to the banks of the Propontis; that a spurious race of strangers +and plebeians was left to possess the solitude of the ancient capital; +and that the lands of Italy, long since converted into gardens, +were at once deprived of cultivation and inhabitants. In +the course of this history such exaggerations will be reduced to +their just value: yet, since the growth of Constantinople cannot +be ascribed to the general increase of mankind and of industry, +it must be admitted that this artificial colony was raised at the +expense of the ancient cities of the empire. Many opulent senators +of Rome and of the eastern provinces were probably invited +by Constantine to adopt for their country the fortunate spot +which he had chosen for his own residence. The invitations of +a master are scarcely to be distinguished from commands; and +the liberality of the Emperor obtained a ready and cheerful obedience. +He bestowed on his favorites the palaces which he had +built in the several quarters of the city, assigned them lands +and pensions for the support of their dignity, and alienated the +demesnes of Pontus and Asia to grant hereditary estates by the +easy tenure of maintaining a house in the capital. But these +encouragements and obligations soon became superfluous, and +were gradually abolished. Wherever the seat of government +is fixed, a considerable part of the public revenue will be expended +by the prince himself, by his ministers, by the officers of +justice, and by the domestics of the palace. The most wealthy +of the provincials will be attracted by the powerful motives +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 6291]</a></span> +of interest and duty, of amusement and curiosity. A third and +more numerous class of inhabitants will insensibly be formed, +of servants, of artificers, and of merchants, who derive their subsistence +from their own labor and from the wants or luxury of +the superior ranks. In less than a century Constantinople disputed +with Rome itself the pre-eminence of riches and numbers. +New piles of buildings, crowded together with too little regard to +health or convenience, scarcely allowed the intervals of narrow +streets for the perpetual throng of men, of horses, and of carriages. +The allotted space of ground was insufficient to contain +the increasing people; and the additional foundations, which on +either side were advanced into the sea, might alone have composed +a very considerable city.</p> + +<p>The frequent and regular distributions of wine and oil, of +corn or bread, of money or provisions, had almost exempted the +poorer citizens of Rome from the necessity of labor. The magnificence +of the first Cæsars was in some measure imitated by the +founder of Constantinople; but his liberality, however it might +excite the applause of the people, has incurred the censure of +posterity. A nation of legislators and conquerors might assert +their claim to the harvests of Africa, which had been purchased +with their blood; and it was artfully contrived by Augustus that +in the enjoyment of plenty the Romans should lose the memory +of freedom. But the prodigality of Constantine could not be excused +by any consideration either of public or private interest; +and the annual tribute of corn imposed upon Egypt for the benefit +of his new capital was applied to feed a lazy and insolent +populace at the expense of the husbandmen of an industrious +province. Some other regulations of this Emperor are less liable +to blame, but they are less deserving of notice. He divided +Constantinople into fourteen regions or quarters, dignified the +public council with the appellation of senate, communicated to +the citizens the privileges of Italy, and bestowed on the rising +city the title of colony, the first and most favored daughter of +ancient Rome. The venerable parent still maintained the legal +and acknowledged supremacy which was due to her age, her +dignity, and to the remembrance of her former greatness.</p> + +<p>As Constantine urged the progress of the work with the impatience +of a lover, the walls, the porticos, and the principal edifices +were completed in a few years, or according to another +account, in a few months; but this extraordinary diligence should +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 6292]</a></span> +excite the less admiration, since many of the buildings were +finished in so hasty and imperfect a manner that under the succeeding +reign they were preserved with difficulty from impending +ruin. But while they displayed the vigor and freshness of youth, +the founder prepared to celebrate the dedication of his city. The +games and largesses which crowned the pomp of this memorable +festival may easily be supposed; but there is one circumstance of +a more singular and permanent nature which ought not entirely +to be overlooked. As often as the birthday of the city returned, +the statue of Constantine, framed by his order, of gilt wood, and +bearing in its right hand a small image of the genius of the +place, was erected on a triumphal car. The guards, carrying +white tapers and clothed in their richest apparel, accompanied the +solemn procession as it moved through the Hippodrome. When +it was opposite to the throne of the reigning emperor, he rose +from his seat, and with grateful reverence adored the memory +of his predecessor. At the festival of the dedication an edict, +engraved on a column of marble, bestowed the title of <span class="smcap">Second</span> +or <span class="smcap">New Rome</span> on the city of Constantine. But the name of Constantinople +has prevailed over that honorable epithet, and after +the revolution of fourteen centuries still perpetuates the fame of +its author.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="CHARACTER_OF_CONSTANTINE" id="CHARACTER_OF_CONSTANTINE"></a>CHARACTER OF CONSTANTINE</h3> + +<p>The character of the prince who removed the seat of empire, +and introduced such important changes into the civil and +religious constitution of his country, has fixed the attention +and divided the opinions of mankind. By the grateful zeal of +the Christians, the deliverer of the Church has been decorated +with every attribute of a hero and even of a saint, while the +discontent of the vanquished party has compared Constantine to +the most abhorred of those tyrants who by their vice and weakness +dishonored the imperial purple. The same passions have +in some degree been perpetuated to succeeding generations, and +the character of Constantine is considered, even in the present +age, as an object either of satire or of panegyric. By the impartial +union of those defects which are confessed by his warmest +admirers, and of those virtues which are acknowledged by his +most implacable enemies, we might hope to delineate a just +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 6293]</a></span> +portrait of that extraordinary man which the truth and candor +of history should adopt without a blush. But it would soon appear, +that the vain attempt to blend such discordant colors and +to reconcile such inconsistent qualities must produce a figure +monstrous rather than human, unless it is viewed in its proper +and distinct lights, by a careful separation of the different periods +of the reign of Constantine.</p> + +<p>The person as well as the mind of Constantine had been +enriched by nature with her choicest endowments. His stature +was lofty, his countenance majestic, his deportment graceful, his +strength and activity were displayed in every manly exercise, and +from his earliest youth to a very advanced season of life he preserved +the vigor of his constitution by a strict adherence to the +domestic virtues of chastity and temperance. He delighted in +the social intercourse of familiar conversation; and though he +might sometimes indulge his disposition to raillery with less +reserve than was required by the severe dignity of his station, +the courtesy and liberality of his manners gained the hearts of +all who approached him. The sincerity of his friendship has +been suspected; yet he showed on some occasions that he was +not incapable of a warm and lasting attachment. The disadvantage +of an illiterate education had not prevented him from forming +a just estimate of the value of learning; and the arts and +sciences derived some encouragement from the munificent protection +of Constantine. In the dispatch of business, his diligence +was indefatigable; and the active powers of his mind were +almost continually exercised in reading, writing, or meditating, +in giving audience to ambassadors, and in examining the complaints +of his subjects. Even those who censured the propriety +of his measures were compelled to acknowledge that he possessed +magnanimity to conceive and patience to execute the +most arduous designs, without being checked either by the prejudices +of education or by the clamors of the multitude. In the +field he infused his own intrepid spirit into the troops, whom he +conducted with the talents of a consummate general; and to his +abilities, rather than to his fortune, we may ascribe the signal +victories which he obtained over the foreign and domestic foes +of the republic. He loved glory as the reward, perhaps as the +motive, of his labors. The boundless ambition which, from the +moment of his accepting the purple at York, appears as the ruling +passion of his soul, may be justified by the dangers of his +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 6294]</a></span> +own situation, by the character of his rivals, by the consciousness +of superior merit, and by the prospect that his success would +enable him to restore peace and order to the distracted empire. +In his civil wars against Maxentius and Licinius he had engaged +on his side the inclinations of the people, who compared the undissembled +vices of those tyrants with the spirit of wisdom and +justice which seemed to direct the general tenor of the administration +of Constantine.</p> + +<p>Had Constantine fallen on the banks of the Tiber, or even in +the plains of Hadrianople, such is the character which, with a few +exceptions, he might have transmitted to posterity. But the conclusion +of his reign (according to the moderate and indeed tender +sentence of a writer of the same age) degraded him from the +rank which he had acquired among the most deserving of the +Roman princes. In the life of Augustus we behold the tyrant +of the republic converted, almost by imperceptible degrees, into +the father of his country and of human kind. In that of Constantine +we may contemplate a hero who had so long inspired +his subjects with love and his enemies with terror, degenerating +into a cruel and dissolute monarch, corrupted by his fortune or +raised by conquest above the necessity of dissimulation. The +general peace which he maintained during the last fourteen years +of his reign was a period of apparent splendor rather than of +real prosperity; and the old age of Constantine was disgraced by +the opposite yet reconcilable vices of rapaciousness and prodigality. +The accumulated treasures found in the palaces of Maxentius +and Licinius were lavishly consumed; the various innovations +introduced by the conqueror were attended with an increasing +expense; the cost of his buildings, his court, and his festivals +required an immediate and plentiful supply; and the oppression +of the people was the only fund which could support the magnificence +of the sovereign. His unworthy favorites, enriched by +the boundless liberality of their master, usurped with impunity +the privilege of rapine and corruption. A secret but universal +decay was felt in every part of the public administration; and +the Emperor himself, though he still retained the obedience, +gradually lost the esteem of his subjects. The dress and manners +which towards the decline of life he chose to affect, served +only to degrade him in the eyes of mankind. The Asiatic pomp +which had been adopted by the pride of Diocletian assumed an +air of softness and effeminacy in the person of Constantine. He is +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 6295]</a></span> +represented with false hair of various colors, laboriously arranged +by the skillful artists of the times; a diadem of a new and more +expensive fashion; a profusion of gems and pearls, of collars and +bracelets, and a variegated flowing robe of silk, most curiously +embroidered with flowers of gold. In such apparel, scarcely to +be excused by the youth and folly of Elagabulus, we are at a +loss to discover the wisdom of an aged monarch and the simplicity +of a Roman veteran. A mind thus relaxed by prosperity and +indulgence was incapable of rising to that magnanimity which +disdains suspicion and dares to forgive. The deaths of Maximian +and Licinius may perhaps be justified by the maxims of +policy as they are taught in the schools of tyrants; but an impartial +narrative of the executions, or rather murders, which sullied +the declining age of Constantine, will suggest to our most +candid thoughts the idea of a prince who could sacrifice without +reluctance the laws of justice and the feelings of nature, to the +dictates either of his passions or of his interest.</p> + +<p>The same fortune which so invariably followed the standard +of Constantine seemed to secure the hopes and comforts of his +domestic life. Those among his predecessors who had enjoyed +the longest and most prosperous reigns, Augustus, Trajan, and +Diocletian, had been disappointed of posterity; and the frequent +revolutions had never allowed sufficient time for any imperial family +to grow up and multiply under the shade of the purple. But +the royalty of the Flavian line, which had been first ennobled by +the Gothic Claudius, descended through several generations; and +Constantine himself derived from his royal father the hereditary +honors which he transmitted to his children. The Emperor had +been twice married. Minervina, the obscure but lawful object of +his youthful attachment, had left him only one son, who was +called Crispus. By Fausta, the daughter of Maximian, he had +three daughters, and three sons known by the kindred names +of Constantine, Constantius, and Constans. The unambitious +brothers of the great Constantine, Julius Constantius, Dalmatius, +and Hannibalianus, were permitted to enjoy the most honorable +rank and the most affluent fortune that could be consistent with +a private station. The youngest of the three lived without a +name and died without posterity. His two elder brothers obtained +in marriage the daughters of wealthy senators, and propagated +new branches of the imperial race. Gallus and Julian +afterwards became the most illustrious of the children of Julius +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 6296]</a></span> +Constantius the <i>Patrician</i>. The two sons of Dalmatius, who +had been decorated with the vain title of <i>censor</i>, were named +Dalmatius and Hannibalianus. The two sisters of the great +Constantine, Anastasia and Eutropia, were bestowed on Optatus +and Nepotianus, two senators of noble birth and of consular dignity. +His third sister, Constantia, was distinguished by her pre-eminence +of greatness and of misery. She remained the widow +of the vanquished Licinius; and it was by her entreaties that +an innocent boy, the offspring of their marriage, preserved for +some time his life, the title of Caesar, and a precarious hope of +the succession. Besides the females and the allies of the Flavian +house, ten or twelve males to whom the language of modern +courts would apply the title of princes of the blood, seemed, +according to the order of their birth, to be destined either to inherit +or to support the throne of Constantine. But in less than +thirty years this numerous and increasing family was reduced +to the persons of Constantius and Julian, who alone had survived +a series of crimes and calamities such as the tragic poets have +deplored in the devoted lines of Pelops and of Cadmus.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="DEATH_OF_JULIAN" id="DEATH_OF_JULIAN"></a>DEATH OF JULIAN</h3> + +<p>While Julian struggled with the almost insuperable difficulties +of his situation, the silent hours of the night were +still devoted to study and contemplation. Whenever he +closed his eyes in short and interrupted slumbers, his mind was +agitated with painful anxiety; nor can it be thought surprising +that the Genius of the Empire should once more appear before +him, covering with a funeral veil his head and his horn of +abundance, and slowly retiring from the imperial tent. The +monarch started from his couch, and stepping forth to refresh +his wearied spirits with the coolness of the midnight air, he beheld +a fiery meteor which shot athwart the sky and suddenly +vanished. Julian was convinced that he had seen the menacing +countenance of the god of war; the council which he summoned +of Tuscan Haruspices unanimously pronounced that he should +abstain from action; but on this occasion necessity and reason +were more prevalent than superstition, and the trumpets sounded +at the break of day. The army marched through a hilly country, +and the hills had been secretly occupied by the Persians. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 6297]</a></span> +Julian led the van with the skill and attention of a consummate +general; he was alarmed by the intelligence that his rear was +suddenly attacked. The heat of the weather had tempted him +to lay aside his cuirass; but he snatched a shield from one of his +attendants and hastened with a sufficient reinforcement to the +relief of the rear guard. A similar danger recalled the intrepid +prince to the defense of the front; and as he galloped between +the columns, the centre of the left was attacked and almost +overpowered by a furious charge of the Persian cavalry and elephants. +This huge body was soon defeated by the well-timed +evolution of the light infantry, who aimed their weapons, with +dexterity and effect, against the backs of the horsemen and the +legs of the elephants. The Barbarians fled; and Julian, who was +foremost in every danger, animated the pursuit with his voice +and gestures. His trembling guards, scattered and oppressed +by the disorderly throng of friends and enemies, reminded their +fearless sovereign that he was without armor, and conjured him +to decline the fall of the impending ruin. As they exclaimed, a +cloud of darts and arrows was discharged from the flying squadrons; +and a javelin, after razing the skin of his arm, transpierced +the ribs and fixed in the inferior part of the liver. Julian attempted +to draw the deadly weapon from his side, but his fingers +were cut by the sharpness of the steel, and he fell senseless +from his horse. His guards flew to his relief, and the wounded +Emperor was gently raised from the ground and conveyed out +of the tumult of the battle into an adjacent tent. The report of +the melancholy event passed from rank to rank; but the grief +of the Romans inspired them with invincible valor and the +desire of revenge. The bloody and obstinate conflict was maintained +by the two armies till they were separated by the total +darkness of the night. The Persians derived some honor from +the advantage which they obtained against the left wing, where +Anatolius, master of the offices, was slain, and the præfect Sallust +very narrowly escaped. But the event of the day was +adverse to the Barbarians. They abandoned the field, their two +generals Meranes and Nohordates, fifty nobles or satraps, and +a multitude of their bravest soldiers; and the success of the +Romans, if Julian had survived, might have been improved into +a decisive and useful victory.</p> + +<p>The first words that Julian uttered after his recovery from +the fainting fit into which he had been thrown by loss of blood, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 6298]</a></span> +were expressive of his martial spirit. He called for his horse +and arms, and was impatient to rush into the battle. His remaining +strength was exhausted by the painful effort, and the +surgeons who examined his wound discovered the symptoms of +approaching death. He employed the awful moments with the +firm temper of a hero and a sage; the philosophers who had +accompanied him in this fatal expedition compared the tent of +Julian with the prison of Socrates; and the spectators whom +duty or friendship or curiosity had assembled round his couch +listened with respectful grief to the funeral oration of their dying +emperor:—"Friends and fellow soldiers, the seasonable period of +my departure is now arrived, and I discharge, with the cheerfulness +of a ready debtor, the demands of nature. I have learned +from philosophy how much the soul is more excellent than the +body; and that the separation of the nobler substance should be +the subject of joy rather than of affliction. I have learned from +religion that an earthly death has often been the reward of piety; +and I accept, as a favor of the gods, the mortal stroke that +secures me from the danger of disgracing a character which has +hitherto been supported by virtue and fortitude. I die without +remorse, as I have lived without guilt. I am pleased to reflect +on the innocence of my private life; and I can affirm with confidence +that the supreme authority, that emanation of the Divine +power, has been preserved in my hands pure and immaculate. +Detesting the corrupt and destructive maxims of despotism, I +have considered the happiness of the people as the end of government. +Submitting my actions to the laws of prudence, of +justice, and of moderation, I have trusted the event to the care +of Providence. Peace was the object of my counsels as long +as peace was consistent with the public welfare; but when the +imperious voice of my country summoned me to arms, I exposed +my person to the dangers of war with the clear foreknowledge +(which I had acquired from the art of divination) that I was destined +to fall by the sword. I now offer my tribute of gratitude +to the Eternal Being, who has not suffered me to perish by the +cruelty of a tyrant, by the secret dagger of conspiracy, or by the +slow tortures of lingering disease. He has given me, in the midst +of an honorable career, a splendid and glorious departure from +this world; and I hold it equally absurd, equally base, to solicit +or to decline the stroke of fate. Thus much I have attempted to +say; but my strength fails me, and I feel the approach of death. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 6299]</a></span> +I shall cautiously refrain from any word that may tend to influence +your suffrages in the election of an emperor. My choice +might be imprudent or injudicious; and if it should not be ratified +by the consent of the army, it might be fatal to the person +whom I should recommend. I shall only, as a good citizen, +express my hopes that the Romans may be blessed with the +government of a virtuous sovereign." After this discourse, which +Julian pronounced in a firm and gentle tone of voice, he distributed +by a military testament the remains of his private fortune; +and making some inquiry why Anatolius was not present, he +understood from the answer of Sallust that Anatolius was killed, +and bewailed with amiable inconsistency the loss of his friend. +At the same time he reproved the immoderate grief of the spectators, +and conjured them not to disgrace by unmanly tears the +fate of a prince who in a few moments would be united with +heaven and with the stars. The spectators were silent; and +Julian entered into a metaphysical argument with the philosophers +Priscus and Maximus on the nature of the soul. The +efforts which he made, of mind as well as body, most probably +hastened his death. His wound began to bleed with fresh violence; +his respiration was embarrassed by the swelling of the +veins; he called for a draught of cold water, and as soon as he +had drunk it expired without pain, about the hour of midnight. +Such was the end of that extraordinary man, in the thirty-second +year of his age, after a reign of one year and about eight months +from the death of Constantius. In his last moments he displayed, +perhaps with some ostentation, the love of virtue and of fame +which had been the ruling passions of his life.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="THE_FALL_OF_ROME" id="THE_FALL_OF_ROME"></a>THE FALL OF ROME</h3> + +<p>At the hour of midnight the Salarian gate was silently opened, +and the inhabitants were awakened by the tremendous sound +of the Gothic trumpet. Eleven hundred and sixty-three +years after the foundation of Rome, the imperial city which had +subdued and civilized so considerable a part of mankind was +delivered to the licentious fury of the tribes of Germany and +Scythia.</p> + +<p>The proclamation of Alaric, when he forced his entrance into +a vanquished city, discovered however some regard for the laws +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 6300]</a></span> +of humanity and religion. He encouraged his troops boldly to +seize the rewards of valor, and to enrich themselves with the +spoils of a wealthy and effeminate people; but he exhorted them +at the same time to spare the lives of the unresisting citizens, and +to respect the churches of the apostles St. Peter and St. Paul +as holy and inviolable sanctuaries. Amidst the horrors of a +nocturnal tumult, several of the Christian Goths displayed the +fervor of a recent conversion; and some instances of their uncommon +piety and moderation are related, and perhaps adorned, +by the zeal of ecclesiastical writers. While the Barbarians roamed +through the city in quest of prey, the humble dwelling of an +aged virgin who had devoted her life to the service of the altar +was forced open by one of the powerful Goths. He immediately +demanded, though in civil language, all the gold and silver in +her possession; and was astonished at the readiness with which +she conducted him to a splendid hoard of massy plate of the +richest materials and the most curious workmanship. The Barbarian +viewed with wonder and delight this valuable acquisition, +till he was interrupted by a serious admonition addressed to +him in the following words: "These," said she, "are the consecrated +vessels belonging to St. Peter; if you presume to touch +them, the sacrilegious deed will remain on your conscience. For +my part, I dare not keep what I am unable to defend." The +Gothic captain, struck with reverential awe, dispatched a messenger +to inform the King of the treasure which he had discovered, +and received a peremptory order from Alaric that all +the consecrated plate and ornaments should be transported, without +damage or delay, to the church of the Apostle. From the +extremity, perhaps, of the Quirinal hill, to the distant quarter of +the Vatican, a numerous detachment of Goths, marching in order +of battle through the principal streets, protected with glittering +arms the long train of their devout companions, who bore aloft +on their heads the sacred vessels of gold and silver; and the +martial shouts of the Barbarians were mingled with the sound of +religious psalmody. From all the adjacent houses a crowd of +Christians hastened to join this edifying procession; and a multitude +of fugitives, without distinction of age, or rank, or even +of sect, had the good fortune to escape to the secure and hospitable +sanctuary of the Vatican. The learned work 'Concerning +the City of God' was professedly composed by St. Augustine to +justify the ways of Providence in the destruction of the Roman +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 6301]</a></span> +greatness. He celebrates with peculiar satisfaction this memorable +triumph of Christ, and insults his adversaries by challenging +them to produce some similar example of a town taken by storm, +in which the fabulous gods of antiquity had been able to protect +either themselves or their deluded votaries.</p> + +<p>In the sack of Rome, some rare and extraordinary examples +of Barbarian virtue have been deservedly applauded. But the +holy precincts of the Vatican and the Apostolic churches could +receive a very small proportion of the Roman people; many +thousand warriors, more especially of the Huns who served under +the standard of Alaric, were strangers to the name, or at +least to the faith, of Christ; and we may suspect without any +breach of charity or candor that in the hour of savage license, +when every passion was inflamed and every restraint was removed, +the precepts of the gospel seldom influenced the behavior +of the Gothic Christians. The writers the best disposed to +exaggerate their clemency have freely confessed that a cruel +slaughter was made of the Romans, and that the streets of the +city were filled with dead bodies, which remained without burial +during the general consternation. The despair of the citizens was +sometimes converted into fury; and whenever the Barbarians were +provoked by opposition, they extended the promiscuous massacre +to the feeble, the innocent, and the helpless. The private revenge +of forty thousand slaves was exercised without pity or remorse; +and the ignominious lashes which they had formerly received +were washed away in the blood of the guilty or obnoxious families. +The matrons and virgins of Rome were exposed to injuries +more dreadful, in the apprehension of chastity, than death +itself....</p> + +<p>The want of youth, or beauty, or chastity protected the greatest +part of the Roman women from the danger of a rape. But +avarice is an insatiate and universal passion, since the enjoyment +of almost every object that can afford pleasure to the different +tastes and tempers of mankind may be procured by the possession +of wealth. In the pillage of Rome, a just preference was +given to gold and jewels, which contain the greatest value in +the smallest compass and weight; but after these portable riches +had been removed by the more diligent robbers, the palaces of +Rome were rudely stripped of their splendid and costly furniture. +The sideboards of massy plate, and the variegated wardrobes +of silk and purple, were irregularly piled in the wagons +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 6302]</a></span> +that always followed the march of a Gothic army. The most +exquisite works of art were roughly handled or wantonly destroyed; +many a statue was melted for the sake of the precious +materials; and many a vase, in the division of the spoil, was +shivered into fragments by the stroke of a battle-axe. The acquisition +of riches served only to stimulate the avarice of the +rapacious Barbarians, who proceeded by threats, by blows, and by +tortures, to force from their prisoners the confession of hidden +treasure. Visible splendor and expense were alleged as the +proof of a plentiful fortune; the appearance of poverty was imputed +to a parsimonious disposition; and the obstinacy of some +misers, who endured the most cruel torments before they would +discover the secret object of their affection, was fatal to many +unhappy wretches, who expired under the lash for refusing to +reveal their imaginary treasures. The edifices of Rome, though +the damage has been much exaggerated, received some injury +from the violence of the Goths. At their entrance through the +Salarian gate, they fired the adjacent houses to guide their +march and to distract the attention of the citizens; the flames, +which encountered no obstacle in the disorder of the night, consumed +many private and public buildings; and the ruins of the +palace of Sallust remained, in the age of Justinian, a stately +monument of the Gothic conflagration. Yet a contemporary historian +has observed that fire could scarcely consume the enormous +beams of solid brass, and that the strength of man was +insufficient to subvert the foundations of ancient structures. +Some truth may possibly be concealed in his devout assertion +that the wrath of Heaven supplied the imperfections of hostile +rage, and that the proud Forum of Rome, decorated with the +statues of so many gods and heroes, was leveled in the dust by +the stroke of lightning....</p> + +<p>It was not easy to compute the multitudes who, from an +honorable station and a prosperous future, were suddenly reduced +to the miserable condition of captives and exiles.... The +nations who invaded the Roman empire had driven before them +into Italy whole troops of hungry and affrighted provincials, +less apprehensive of servitude than of famine. The calamities +of Rome and Italy dispersed the inhabitants to the most lonely, +the most secure, the most distant places of refuge.... The +Italian fugitives were dispersed through the provinces, along the +coast of Egypt and Asia, as far as Constantinople and Jerusalem; +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 6303]</a></span> +and the village of Bethlem, the solitary residence of St. Jerom +and his female converts, was crowded with illustrious beggars +of either sex and every age, who excited the public compassion +by the remembrance of their past fortune. This awful catastrophe +of Rome filled the astonished empire with grief and +terror. So interesting a contrast of greatness and ruin disposed +the fond credulity of the people to deplore, and even to exaggerate, +the afflictions of the queen of cities. The clergy, who +applied to recent events the lofty metaphors of Oriental prophecy, +were sometimes tempted to confound the destruction of the +capital and the dissolution of the globe.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="SILK" id="SILK"></a>SILK</h3> + +<p>I need not explain that <i>silk</i> is originally spun from the bowels +of a caterpillar, and that it composes the golden tomb from +whence a worm emerges in the form of a butterfly. Till the +reign of Justinian, the silkworms who feed on the leaves of the +white mulberry-tree were confined to China; those of the pine, +the oak, and the ash were common in the forests both of Asia +and Europe: but as their education is more difficult, and their +produce more uncertain, they were generally neglected, except +in the little island of Ceos, near the coast of Attica. A thin +gauze was procured from their webs, and this Cean manufacture, +the invention of a woman, for female use, was long admired +both in the East and at Rome. Whatever suspicions may be +raised by the garments of the Medes and Assyrians, Virgil is +the most ancient writer who expressly mentions the soft wool +which was combed from the trees of the Seres or Chinese; and +this natural error, less marvelous than the truth, was slowly +corrected by the knowledge of a valuable insect, the first artificer +of the luxury of nations. That rare and elegant luxury +was censured, in the reign of Tiberius, by the gravest of the +Romans; and Pliny, in affected though forcible language, has +condemned the thirst of gain which explores the last confines of +the earth for the pernicious purpose of exposing to the public +eye naked draperies and transparent matrons. A dress which +showed the turn of the limbs, the color of the skin, might gratify +vanity or provoke desire; the silks which had been closely +woven in China were sometimes unraveled by the Phœnician +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 6304]</a></span> +women, and the precious materials were multiplied by a looser +texture and the intermixture of linen threads. Two hundred +years after the age of Pliny the use of pure or even of mixed +silks was confined to the female sex, till the opulent citizens of +Rome and the provinces were insensibly familiarized with the +example of Elagabalus, the first who, by this effeminate habit, +had sullied the dignity of an emperor and a man. Aurelian +complained that a pound of silk was sold at Rome for twelve +ounces of gold; but the supply increased with the demand, and +the price diminished with the supply. If accident or monopoly +sometimes raised the value even above the standard of Aurelian, +the manufacturers of Tyre and Berytus were sometimes compelled, +by the operation of the same causes, to content themselves +with a ninth part of that extravagant rate. A law was +thought necessary to discriminate the dress of comedians from +that of senators; and of the silk exported from its native country +the far greater part was consumed by the subjects of Justinian. +They were still more intimately acquainted with a shell-fish of +the Mediterranean, surnamed the silkworm of the sea: the fine +wool or hair by which the mother-of-pearl affixes itself to the +rock is now manufactured for curiosity rather than use; and a +robe obtained from the same singular materials was the gift of +the Roman Emperor to the satraps of Armenia.</p> + +<p>A valuable merchandise of small bulk is capable of defraying +the expense of land carriage; and the caravans traversed the +whole latitude of Asia in two hundred and forty-three days from +the Chinese Ocean to the sea-coast of Syria. Silk was immediately +delivered to the Romans by the Persian merchants who frequented +the fairs of Armenia and Nisibis; but this trade, which +in the intervals of truce was oppressed by avarice and jealousy, +was totally interrupted by the long wars of the rival monarchies. +The great king might proudly number Sogdiana, and even +<i>Serica</i>, among the provinces of his empire: but his real dominion +was bounded by the Oxus; and his useful intercourse with the +Sogdoites beyond the river depended on the pleasure of their +conquerors the white Huns, and the Turks, who successively +reigned over that industrious people. Yet the most savage dominion +has not extirpated the seeds of agriculture and commerce, +in a region which is celebrated as one of the four gardens of +Asia; the cities of Samarcand and Bochara are advantageously +seated for the exchange of its various productions; and their +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 6305]</a></span> +merchants purchased from the Chinese the raw or manufactured +silk which they transported into Persia for the use of the Roman +Empire. In the vain capital of China, the Sogdian caravans were +entertained as the suppliant embassies of tributary kingdoms; +and if they returned in safety, the bold adventure was rewarded +with exorbitant gain. But the difficult and perilous march from +Samarcand to the first town of Shensi could not be performed +in less than sixty, eighty, or one hundred days: as soon as they +had passed the Jaxartes they entered the desert; and the wandering +hordes, unless they are restrained by armies and garrisons, +have always considered the citizen and the traveler as the +objects of lawful rapine. To escape the Tartar robbers and the +tyrants of Persia, the silk caravans explored a more southern +road; they traversed the mountains of Thibet, descended the +streams of the Ganges or the Indus, and patiently expected, in +the ports of Guzerat and Malabar, the annual fleets of the West. +But the dangers of the desert were found less intolerable than +toil, hunger, and the loss of time; the attempt was seldom renewed, +and the only European who has passed that unfrequented +way applauds his own diligence, that in nine months after his +departure from Pekin, he reached the mouth of the Indus. The +ocean, however, was open to the free communication of mankind. +From the great river to the tropic of Cancer, the provinces +of China were subdued and civilized by the emperors of +the North; they were filled about the time of the Christian era +with cities and men, mulberry-trees and their precious inhabitants; +and if the Chinese, with the knowledge of the compass, +had possessed the genius of the Greeks or Phœnicians, they +might have spread their discoveries over the southern hemisphere. +I am not qualified to examine, and I am not disposed to believe, +their distant voyages to the Persian Gulf or the Cape of Good +Hope; but their ancestors might equal the labors and success +of the present race, and the sphere of their navigation might +extend from the Isles of Japan to the Straits of Malacca,—the pillars, +if we may apply that name, of an Oriental Hercules. Without +losing sight of land, they might sail along the coast to the +extreme promontory of Achin, which is annually visited by ten +or twelve ships laden with the productions, the manufactures, +and even the artificers of China; the Island of Sumatra and the +opposite peninsula are faintly delineated as the regions of gold +and silver; and the trading cities named in the geography of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 6306]</a></span> +Ptolemy may indicate that this wealth was not solely derived +from the mines. The direct interval between Sumatra and Ceylon +is about three hundred leagues: the Chinese and Indian navigators +were conducted by the flight of birds and periodical winds; +and the ocean might be securely traversed in square-built ships, +which instead of iron were sewed together with the strong +thread of the cocoanut. Ceylon, Serendib, or Taprobana, was +divided between two hostile princes; one of whom possessed the +mountains, the elephants, and the luminous carbuncle, and the +other enjoyed the more solid riches of domestic industry, foreign +trade, and the capacious harbor of Trinquemale, which received +and dismissed the fleets of the East and West. In this hospitable +isle, at an equal distance (as it was computed) from their +respective countries, the silk merchants of China, who had collected +in their voyages aloes, cloves, nutmeg, and sandal-wood, +maintained a free and beneficial commerce with the inhabitants +of the Persian Gulf. The subjects of the great king exalted, +without a rival, his power and magnificence; and the Roman, who +confounded their vanity by comparing his paltry coin with a gold +medal of the Emperor Anastasius, had sailed to Ceylon in an +Æthiopian ship as a simple passenger.</p> + +<p>As silk became of indispensable use, the Emperor Justinian +saw with concern that the Persians had occupied by land and sea +the monopoly of this important supply, and that the wealth of +his subjects was continually drained by a nation of enemies and +idolaters. An active government would have restored the trade +of Egypt and the navigation of the Red Sea, which had decayed +with the prosperity of the empire; and the Roman vessels might +have sailed, for the purchase of silk, to the ports of Ceylon, of +Malacca, or even of China. Justinian embraced a more humble +expedient, and solicited the aid of his Christian allies, the +Æthiopians of Abyssinia, who had recently acquired the arts of +navigation, the spirit of trade, and the seaport of Adulis, still +decorated with the trophies of a Grecian conqueror. Along the +African coast they penetrated to the Equator in search of gold, +emeralds, and aromatics; but they wisely declined an unequal +competition, in which they must be always prevented by the vicinity +of the Persians to the markets of India; and the Emperor +submitted to the disappointment till his wishes were gratified +by an unexpected event. The gospel had been preached to the +Indians; a bishop already governed the Christians of St. Thomas +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 6307]</a></span> +on the pepper coast of Malabar; a church was planted in Ceylon, +and the missionaries pursued the footsteps of commerce to the +extremities of Asia. Two Persian monks had long resided in +China, perhaps in the royal city of Nankin, the seat of a monarch +addicted to foreign superstitions, and who actually received +an embassy from the Isle of Ceylon. Amidst their pious occupations +they viewed with a curious eye the common dress of the +Chinese, the manufactures of silk, and the myriads of silkworms, +whose education (either on trees or in houses) had once been +considered as the labor of queens. They soon discovered that it +was impracticable to transport the short-lived insect, but that in +the eggs a numerous progeny might be preserved and multiplied +in a distant climate. Religion or interest had more power +over the Persian monks than the love of their country: after a +long journey they arrived at Constantinople, imparted their project +to the Emperor, and were liberally encouraged by the gifts +and promises of Justinian. To the historians of that prince, a +campaign at the foot of Mount Caucasus has seemed more deserving +of a minute relation than the labors of these missionaries +of commerce, who again entered China, deceived a jealous people +by concealing the eggs of the silkworm in a hollow cane, +and returned in triumph with the spoils of the East. Under +their direction the eggs were hatched at the proper season by +the artificial heat of dung; the worms were fed with mulberry +leaves; they lived and labored in a foreign climate; a sufficient +number of butterflies were saved to propagate the race, and trees +were planted to supply the nourishment of the rising generations. +Experience and reflection corrected the errors of a new +attempt, and the Sogdoite ambassadors acknowledged in the succeeding +reign that the Romans were not inferior to the natives +of China in the education of the insects and the manufactures +of silk, in which both China and Constantinople have been surpassed +by the industry of modern Europe. I am not insensible +of the benefits of elegant luxury; yet I reflect with some pain +that if the importers of silk had introduced the art of printing, +already practiced by the Chinese, the comedies of Menander and +the entire decades of Livy would have been perpetuated in the +editions of the sixth century.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 6308]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="MAHOMETS_DEATH_AND_CHARACTER" id="MAHOMETS_DEATH_AND_CHARACTER"></a>MAHOMET'S DEATH AND CHARACTER</h3> + +<p>Till the age of sixty-three years, the strength of Mahomet was +equal to the temporal and spiritual fatigues of his mission. +His epileptic fits, an absurd calumny of the Greeks, would +be an object of pity rather than abhorrence; but he seriously +believed that he was poisoned at Chaibar by the revenge of a +Jewish female. During four years the health of the prophet +declined; his infirmities increased; but his mortal disease was a +fever of fourteen days which deprived him by intervals of the +use of reason. As soon as he was conscious of his danger, he +edified his brethren by the humility of his virtue or penitence. +"If there be any man," said the apostle from the pulpit, "whom +I have unjustly scourged, I submit my own back to the lash of +retaliation. Have I aspersed the reputation of a Mussulman? let +him proclaim <i>my</i> thoughts in the face of the congregation. Has +any one been despoiled of his goods? the little that I possess shall +compensate the principal and the interest of the debt." "Yes," +replied a voice from the crowd, "I am entitled to three drams of +silver." Mahomet heard the complaint, satisfied the demand, and +thanked his creditor for accusing him in this world rather than +at the day of judgment. He beheld with temperate firmness the +approach of death; enfranchised his slaves (seventeen men, as +they are named, and eleven women), minutely directed the order +of his funeral, and moderated the lamentations of his weeping +friends, on whom he bestowed the benediction of peace. Till the +third day before his death, he regularly performed the function +of public prayer: the choice of Abubeker to supply his place +appeared to mark that ancient and faithful friend as his successor +in the sacerdotal and regal office; but he prudently declined the +risk and envy of a more explicit nomination. At a moment when +his faculties were visibly impaired, he called for pen and ink to +write, or more properly, to dictate, a Divine book, the sum and +accomplishment of all his revelations: a dispute arose in the +chamber whether he should be allowed to supersede the authority +of the Koran, and the prophet was forced to reprove the indecent +vehemence of his disciples. If the slightest credit may be +afforded to the traditions of his wives and companions, he maintained, +in the bosom of his family, and to the last moments of +his life, the dignity of an apostle and the faith of an enthusiast; +described the visits of Gabriel, who bade an everlasting farewell +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 6309]</a></span> +to the earth, and expressed his lively confidence not only of the +mercy but of the favor of the Supreme Being. In a familiar +discourse he had mentioned his special prerogative, that the +angel of death was not allowed to take his soul till he had respectfully +asked the permission of the prophet. The request was +granted; and Mahomet immediately fell into the agony of his +dissolution: his head was reclined on the lap of Ayesha, the +best beloved of all his wives; he fainted with the violence of +pain; recovering his spirits, he raised his eyes towards the roof +of the house, and with a steady look, though a faltering voice, +uttered the last broken though articulate words:—"O God! ... +pardon my sins ... Yes ... I come ... among my +fellow-citizens on high;" and thus peaceably expired on a carpet +spread upon the floor. An expedition for the conquest of +Syria was stopped by this mournful event: the army halted at +the gates of Medina, the chiefs were assembled round their dying +master. The city, more especially the house, of the prophet, was +a scene of clamorous sorrow or silent despair: fanaticism alone +could suggest a ray of hope and consolation. "How can he be +dead—our witness, our intercessor, our mediator with God? By +God, he is not dead: like Moses and Jesus, he is wrapped in a +holy trance, and speedily will he return to his faithful people." +The evidence of sense was disregarded, and Omar, unsheathing +his cimeter, threatened to strike off the heads of the infidels who +should dare to affirm that the prophet was no more. The tumult +was appeased by the weight and moderation of Abubeker. "Is it +Mahomet," said he to Omar and the multitude, "or the God of +Mahomet, whom you worship? The God of Mahomet liveth forever; +but the apostle was a mortal like ourselves, and according +to his own prediction, he has experienced the common fate of +mortality." He was piously interred by the hands of his nearest +kinsman, on the same spot on which he expired. Medina has +been sanctified by the death and burial of Mahomet, and the +innumerable pilgrims of Mecca often turn aside from the way, +to bow in voluntary devotion before the simple tomb of the +prophet.</p> + +<p>At the conclusion of the life of Mahomet it may perhaps be +expected that I should balance his faults and virtues, that I +should decide whether the title of enthusiast or impostor more +properly belongs to that extraordinary man. Had I been intimately +conversant with the son of Abdallah, the task would still +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 6310]</a></span> +be difficult and the success uncertain: at the distance of twelve +centuries, I darkly contemplate his shade through a cloud of +religious incense; and could I truly delineate the portrait of an +hour, the fleeting resemblance would not equally apply to the +solitary of Mount Hera, to the preacher of Mecca, and to the +conqueror of Arabia. The author of a mighty revolution appears +to have been endowed with a pious and contemplative disposition; +so soon as marriage had raised him above the pressure of want, +he avoided the paths of ambition and avarice; and till the age of +forty he lived with innocence, and would have died without a +name. The unity of God is an idea most congenial to nature +and reason; and a slight conversation with the Jews and Christians +would teach him to despise and detest the idolatry of Mecca. +It was the duty of a man and a citizen to impart the doctrine of +salvation, to rescue his country from the dominion of sin and +error. The energy of a mind incessantly bent on the same +object would convert a general obligation into a particular call; +the warm suggestions of the understanding or the fancy would +be felt as the inspirations of Heaven; the labor of thought would +expire in rapture and vision; and the inward sensation, the invisible +monitor, would be described with the form and attributes of +an angel of God. From enthusiasm to imposture the step is +perilous and slippery: the dæmon of Socrates affords a memorable +instance how a wise man may deceive himself, how a good +man may deceive others, how the conscience may slumber in a +mixed and middle state between self-illusion and voluntary fraud. +Charity may believe that the original motives of Mahomet were +those of pure and genuine benevolence; but a human missionary +is incapable of cherishing the obstinate unbelievers who reject his +claims, despise his arguments, and persecute his life; he might +forgive his personal adversaries, he may lawfully hate the enemies +of God; the stern passions of pride and revenge were +kindled in the bosom of Mahomet, and he sighed, like the +prophet of Nineveh, for the destruction of the rebels whom he +had condemned. The injustice of Mecca and the choice of Medina +transformed the citizen into a prince, the humble preacher +into the leader of armies; but his sword was consecrated by the +example of the saints, and the same God who afflicts a sinful +world with pestilence and earthquakes might inspire for their conversion +or chastisement the valor of his servants. In the exercise +of political government, he was compelled to abate of the stern +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 6311]</a></span> +rigor of fanaticism, to comply in some measure with the prejudices +and passions of his followers, and to employ even the vices +of mankind as the instruments of their salvation. The use of +fraud and perfidy, of cruelty and injustice, were often subservient +to the propagation of the faith; and Mahomet commanded or +approved the assassination of the Jews and idolaters who had +escaped from the field of battle. By the repetition of such acts +the character of Mahomet must have been gradually stained; and +the influence of such pernicious habits would be poorly compensated +by the practice of the personal and social virtues which +are necessary to maintain the reputation of a prophet among his +sectaries and friends. Of his last years, ambition was the ruling +passion; and a politician will suspect that he secretly smiled (the +victorious impostor!) at the enthusiasm of his youth and the +credulity of his proselytes. A philosopher will observe that <i>their</i> +credulity and <i>his</i> success would tend more strongly to fortify the +assurance of his Divine mission; that his interest and religion were +inseparately connected; and that his conscience would be soothed +by the persuasion that he alone was absolved by the Deity from +the obligation of positive and moral laws. If he retained any +vestige of his native innocence, the sins of Mahomet may be +allowed as an evidence of his sincerity. In the support of truth, +the arts of fraud and fiction may be deemed less criminal; and he +would have started at the foulness of the means, had he not +been satisfied of the importance and justice of the end. Even in +a conqueror or a priest, I can surprise a word or action of unaffected +humanity; and the decree of Mahomet that in the sale +of captives the mothers should never be separated from their +children, may suspend or moderate the censure of the historian.</p> + +<p>The good sense of Mahomet despised the pomp of royalty; the +apostle of God submitted to the menial offices of the family; he +kindled the fire, swept the floor, milked the ewes, and mended +with his own hands his shoes and his woolen garment. Disdaining +the penance and merit of a hermit, he observed, without +effort or vanity, the abstemious diet of an Arab and a soldier. +On solemn occasions he feasted his companions with rustic and +hospitable plenty; but in his domestic life, many weeks would +elapse without a fire being kindled on the hearth of the prophet. +The interdiction of wine was confirmed by his example; his hunger +was appeased with a sparing allowance of barley bread; he +delighted in the taste of milk and honey, but his ordinary food +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 6312]</a></span> +consisted of dates and water. Perfumes and women were the two +sensual enjoyments which his nature required and his religion +did not forbid; and Mahomet affirmed that the fervor of his +devotion was increased by these innocent pleasures. The heat of +the climate inflames the blood of the Arabs, and their libidinous +complexion has been noticed by the writers of antiquity. Their +incontinence was regulated by the civil and religious laws of the +Koran; their incestuous alliances were blamed; the boundless +license of polygamy was reduced to four legitimate wives or +concubines: their rights both of bed and of dowry were equitably +determined; the freedom of divorce was discouraged; adultery +was condemned as a capital offense; and fornication in +either sex was punished with a hundred stripes. Such were the +calm and rational precepts of the legislator, but in his private +conduct Mahomet indulged the appetites of a man and abused +the claims of a prophet. A special revelation dispensed him from +the laws which he had imposed on his nation: the female sex, +without reserve, was abandoned to his desires; and this singular +prerogative excited the envy rather than the scandal, the veneration +rather than the envy, of the devout Mussulmans. If we +remember the seven hundred wives and three hundred concubines +of the wise Solomon, we shall applaud the modesty of the Arabian, +who espoused no more than seventeen or fifteen wives; +eleven are enumerated, who occupied at Medina their separate +apartments round the house of the apostle, and enjoyed in their +turns the favor of his conjugal society. What is singular enough, +they were all widows, excepting only Ayesha, the daughter of +Abubeker. <i>She</i> was doubtless a virgin, since Mahomet consummated +his nuptials (such is the premature ripeness of the climate) +when she was only nine years of age. The youth, the beauty, +the spirit of Ayesha gave her a superior ascendant; she was +beloved and trusted by the prophet, and after his death the +daughter of Abubeker was long revered as the mother of the +faithful. Her behavior had been ambiguous and indiscreet; in a +nocturnal march she was accidentally left behind, and in the +morning Ayesha returned to the camp with a man. The temper +of Mahomet was inclined to jealousy; but a Divine revelation +assured him of her innocence: he chastised her accusers, and +published a law of domestic peace, that no woman should be +condemned unless four male witnesses had seen her in the act of +adultery. In his adventures with Zeineb the wife of Zeid, and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 6313]</a></span> +with Mary, an Egyptian captive, the amorous prophet forgot the +interest of his reputation. At the house of Zeid, his freedman +and adopted son, he beheld in a loose undress the beauty of +Zeineb, and burst forth into an ejaculation of devotion and desire. +The servile, or grateful, freedman understood the hint, and +yielded without hesitation to the love of his benefactor. But as +the filial relation had excited some doubt and scandal, the angel +Gabriel descended from heaven to ratify the deed, to annul the +adoption, and gently to reprove the apostle for distrusting the +indulgence of his God. One of his wives, Hafna the daughter +of Omar, surprised him on her own bed, in the embraces of his +Egyptian captive: she promised secrecy and forgiveness; he swore +that he would renounce the possession of Mary. Both parties +forgot their engagements; and Gabriel again descended with a +chapter of the Koran, to absolve him from his oath and to +exhort him freely to enjoy his captives and concubines, without +listening to the clamors of his wives. In a solitary retreat of +thirty days, he labored, alone with Mary, to fulfill the commands +of the angel. When his love and revenge were satiated, he summoned +to his presence his eleven wives, reproached their disobedience +and indiscretion, and threatened them with a sentence +of divorce, both in this world and in the next; a dreadful sentence, +since those who had ascended the bed of the prophet +were forever excluded from the hope of a second marriage. Perhaps +the incontinence of Mahomet may be palliated by the tradition +of his natural or preternatural gifts; he united the manly +virtue of thirty of the children of Adam; and the apostle might +rival the thirteenth labor of the Grecian Hercules. A more +serious and decent excuse may be drawn from his fidelity to +Cadijah. During the twenty-four years of their marriage, her +youthful husband abstained from the right of polygamy, and the +pride or tenderness of the venerable matron was never insulted +by the society of a rival. After her death he placed her in the +rank of the four perfect women, with the sister of Moses, the +mother of Jesus, and Fatima, the best beloved of his daughters. +"Was she not old?" said Ayesha, with the insolence of a blooming +beauty: "has not God given you a better in her place?" +"No, by God," said Mahomet, with an effusion of honest gratitude, +"there never can be a better! She believed in me when +men despised me; she relieved my wants when I was poor and +persecuted by the world."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 6314]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="THE_ALEXANDRIAN_LIBRARY" id="THE_ALEXANDRIAN_LIBRARY"></a>THE ALEXANDRIAN LIBRARY</h3> + +<p>I should deceive the expectation of the reader if I passed in +silence the fate of the Alexandrian library as it is described +by the learned Abulpharagius. The spirit of Amrou was +more curious and liberal than that of his brethren, and in his +leisure hours the Arabian chief was pleased with the conversation +of John, the last disciple of Ammonius, and who derived the +surname of <i>Philoponus</i> from his laborious studies of grammar and +philosophy. Emboldened by this familiar intercourse, Philoponus +presumed to solicit a gift, inestimable in <i>his</i> opinion, contemptible +in that of the Barbarians—the royal library, which alone +among the spoils of Alexandria had not been appropriated by +the visit and the seal of the conqueror. Amrou was inclined to +gratify the wish of the grammarian, but his rigid integrity refused +to alienate the minutest object without the consent of the +caliph; and the well-known answer of Omar was inspired by the +ignorance of a fanatic: "If these writings of the Greeks agree +with the book of God, they are useless, and need not be preserved; +if they disagree, they are pernicious, and ought to be +destroyed." The sentence was executed with blind obedience, +the volumes of paper or parchment were distributed to the four +thousand baths of the city; and such was their incredible multitude, +that six months were barely sufficient for the consumption +of this precious fuel. Since the Dynasties of Abulpharagius have +been given to the world in a Latin version, the tale has been +repeatedly transcribed; and every scholar, with pious indignation, +has deplored the irreparable shipwreck of the learning, the arts, +and the genius, of antiquity. For my own part, I am strongly +tempted to deny both the fact and the consequences. The fact +is indeed marvelous. "Read and wonder!" says the historian +himself; and the solitary report of a stranger who wrote at the +end of six hundred years on the confines of Media is overbalanced +by the silence of two annalists of a more early date, both +Christians, both natives of Egypt, and the most ancient of whom, +the patriarch Eutychius, has amply described the conquest of +Alexandria. The rigid sentence of Omar is repugnant to the +sound and orthodox precept of the Mahometan casuists: they +expressly declare that the religious books of the Jews and Christians +which are acquired by the right of war should never be +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 6315]</a></span> +committed to the flames; and that the works of profane science, +historians or poets, physicians or philosophers, may be lawfully +applied to the use of the faithful. A more destructive zeal may +perhaps be attributed to the first successors of Mahomet; yet in +this instance, the conflagration would have speedily expired in +the deficiency of materials. I shall not recapitulate the disasters +of the Alexandrian library, the involuntary flame that was kindled +by Cæsar in his own defense, or the mischievous bigotry of +the Christians, who studied to destroy the monuments of idolatry. +But if we gradually descend from the age of the Antonines to +that of Theodosius, we shall learn from a chain of contemporary +witnesses that the royal palace and the temple of Serapis no +longer contained the four, or the seven, hundred thousand volumes +which had been assembled by the curiosity and magnificence +of the Ptolemies. Perhaps the church and seat of the +patriarchs might be enriched with a repository of books; but if +the ponderous mass of Arian and Monophysite controversy were +indeed consumed in the public baths, a philosopher may allow, +with a smile, that it was ultimately devoted to the benefit of mankind. +I sincerely regret the more valuable libraries which have +been involved in the ruin of the Roman Empire; but when I seriously +compute the lapse of ages, the waste of ignorance, and the +calamities of war, our treasures, rather than our losses, are the +objects of my surprise. Many curious and interesting facts are +buried in oblivion; the three great historians of Rome have been +transmitted to our hands in a mutilated state, and we are deprived +of many pleasing compositions of the lyric, iambic, and +dramatic poetry of the Greeks. Yet we should gratefully remember +that the mischances of time and accident have spared the +classic works to which the suffrage of antiquity had adjudged +the first place of genius and glory; the teachers of ancient knowledge +who are still extant had perused and compared the writings +of their predecessors; nor can it fairly be presumed that +any important truth, any useful discovery in art or nature, has +been snatched away from the curiosity of modern ages.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 6316]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 90%;"> +<a name="RUINED_ROME" id="RUINED_ROME"></a> +<span class="caption"><i>RUINED ROME.</i></span> +<img src="images/ruinedrome.jpg" width="100%" alt="RUINED ROME." title="RUINED ROME." /> +<p class="center"><b>From a Photograph.<br /> +<span class="smcap">Temple of Romulus</span> <span class="smcap">Basilica of Constantine</span> <span class="smcap">Colosseum</span> <span class="smcap">Arch of Titus</span></b></p> +</div> + +<h3><a name="THE_FINAL_RUIN_OF_ROME" id="THE_FINAL_RUIN_OF_ROME"></a>THE FINAL RUIN OF ROME</h3> + +<p>In the last days of Pope Eugenius the Fourth, two of his servants, +the learned Poggius and a friend, ascended the Capitoline +Hill, reposed themselves among the ruins of columns and +temples, and viewed from that commanding spot the wide and +various prospect of desolation. The place and the object gave +ample scope for moralizing on the vicissitudes of fortune, which +spares neither man nor the proudest of his works, which buries +empires and cities in a common grave; and it was agreed that in +proportion to her former greatness the fall of Rome was the more +awful and deplorable. "Her primeval state, such as she might appear +in a remote age, when Evander entertained the stranger +of Troy, has been delineated by the fancy of Virgil. This Tarpeian +Rock was then a savage and solitary thicket; in the time of +the poet it was crowned with the golden roofs of a temple; the +temple is overthrown, the gold has been pillaged, the wheel of +fortune has accomplished her revolution, and the sacred ground +is again disfigured with thorns and brambles. The hill of the +Capitol, on which we sit, was formerly the head of the Roman +Empire, the citadel of the earth, the terror of kings; illustrated +by the footsteps of so many triumphs, enriched with the spoils +and tributes of so many nations. This spectacle of the world, +how is it fallen! how changed! how defaced! The path of victory +is obliterated by vines, and the benches of the senators are +concealed by a dunghill. Cast your eyes on the Palatine Hill, and +seek among the shapeless and enormous fragments the marble +theatre, the obelisks, the colossal statues, the porticos of Nero's +palace; survey the other hills of the city,—the vacant space is interrupted +only by ruins and gardens. The Forum of the Roman +people, where they assembled to enact their laws and elect their +magistrates, is now inclosed for the cultivation of pot-herbs, or +thrown open for the reception of swine and buffaloes. The public +and private edifices that were founded for eternity lie prostrate, +naked, and broken, like the limbs of a mighty giant; and +the ruin is the more visible, from the stupendous relics that have +survived the injuries of time and fortune."</p> + + +<p>These relics are minutely described by Poggius, one of the +first who raised his eyes from the monuments of legendary to +those of classic superstition. 1. Besides a bridge, an arch, a +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 6317]</a></span> +sepulchre, and the pyramid of Cestius, he could discern, of the +age of the republic, a double row of vaults in the salt office +of the Capitol, which were inscribed with the name and munificence +of Catulus. 2. Eleven temples were visible in some +degree, from the perfect form of the Pantheon to the three arches +and a marble column of the temple of Peace which Vespasian +erected after the civil wars and the Jewish triumph. 3. Of the +number which he rashly defines, of seven <i>thermæ</i>, or public +baths, none were sufficiently entire to represent the use and distribution +of the several parts; but those of Diocletian and Antoninus +Caracalla still retained the titles of the founders and +astonished the curious spectator who in observing their solidity +and extent, the variety of marbles, the size and multitude of the +columns, compared the labor and expense with the use and importance. +Of the baths of Constantine, of Alexander, of Domitian, +or rather of Titus, some vestige might yet be found. 4. The +triumphal arches of Titus, Severus, and Constantine were entire, +both the structure and the inscriptions; a falling fragment was +honored with the name of Trajan; and two arches then extant +in the Flaminian Way have been ascribed to the baser memory +of Faustina and Gallienus. 5. After the wonder of the Coliseum, +Poggius might have overlooked a small amphitheatre of brick, +most probably for the use of the prætorian camp; the theatres of +Marcellus and Pompey were occupied in a great measure by public +and private buildings; and in the Circus, Agonalis and Maximus, +little more than the situation and the form could be +investigated. 6. The columns of Trajan and Antonine were still +erect; but the Egyptian obelisks were broken or buried. A people +of gods and heroes, the workmanship of art, was reduced to +one equestrian figure of gilt brass and to five marble statues, of +which the most conspicuous were the two horses of Phidias and +Praxiteles. 7. The two mausoleums or sepulchres of Augustus +and Hadrian could not totally be lost; but the former was only +visible as a mound of earth, and the latter, the castle of St. +Angelo, had acquired the name and appearance of a modern fortress. +With the addition of some separate and nameless columns, +such were the remains of the ancient city; for the marks of a +more recent structure might be detected in the walls, which +formed a circumference of ten miles, included three hundred and +seventy-nine turrets, and opened into the country by thirteen +gates.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 6318]</a></span></p> + +<p>This melancholy picture was drawn above nine hundred years +after the fall of the Western Empire, and even of the Gothic +kingdom of Italy. A long period of distress and anarchy, in +which empire, and arts, and riches had migrated from the banks +of the Tiber, was incapable of restoring or adorning the city; +and as all that is human must retrograde if it do not advance, +every successive age must have hastened the ruin of the works +of antiquity. To measure the progress of decay, and to ascertain, +at each era, the state of each edifice, would be an endless +and a useless labor; and I shall content myself with two observations +which will introduce a short inquiry into the general +causes and effects. 1. Two hundred years before the eloquent +complaint of Poggius, an anonymous writer composed a description +of Rome. His ignorance may repeat the same objects under +strange and fabulous names. Yet this barbarous topographer had +eyes and ears; he could observe the visible remains; he could +listen to the tradition of the people; and he distinctly enumerates +seven theatres, eleven baths, twelve arches, and eighteen palaces, +of which many had disappeared before the time of Poggius. It +is apparent that many stately monuments of antiquity survived +till a late period, and that the principles of destruction acted +with vigorous and increasing energy in the thirteenth and fourteenth +centuries. 2. The same reflection must be applied to the +three last ages; and we should vainly seek the Septizonium of +Severus, which is celebrated by Petrarch and the antiquarians +of the sixteenth century. While the Roman edifices were still +entire, the first blows, however weighty and impetuous, were resisted +by the solidity of the mass and the harmony of the parts; +but the slightest touch would precipitate the fragments of arches +and columns that already nodded to their fall.</p> + +<p>After a diligent inquiry, I can discern four principal causes +of the ruin of Rome, which continued to operate in a period of +more than a thousand years. I. The injuries of time and nature. +II. The hostile attacks of the Barbarians and Christians. III. +The use and abuse of the materials. And IV. The domestic +quarrels of the Romans.</p> + +<p>I. The art of man is able to construct monuments far more +permanent than the narrow span of his own existence; yet these +monuments, like himself, are perishable and frail; and in the +boundless annals of time his life and his labors must equally be +measured as a fleeting moment. Of a simple and solid edifice it +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 6319]</a></span> +is not easy, however, to circumscribe the duration. As the wonders +of ancient days, the Pyramids attracted the curiosity of the +ancients: a hundred generations, the leaves of autumn, have +dropped into the grave; and after the fall of the Pharaohs and +Ptolemies, the Cæsars and caliphs, the same Pyramids stand erect +and unshaken above the floods of the Nile. A complex figure of +various and minute parts is more accessible to injury and decay; +and the silent lapse of time is often accelerated by hurricanes +and earthquakes, by fires and inundations. The air and earth +have doubtless been shaken, and the lofty turrets of Rome have +tottered from their foundations, but the seven hills do not appear +to be placed on the great cavities of the globe; nor has the city +in any age been exposed to the convulsions of nature which in +the climate of Antioch, Lisbon, or Lima, have crumbled in a few +moments the works of ages in the dust. Fire is the most powerful +agent of life and death: the rapid mischief may be kindled +and propagated by the industry or negligence of mankind; and +every period of the Roman annals is marked by the repetition of +similar calamities. A memorable conflagration, the guilt or misfortune +of Nero's reign, continued, though with unequal fury, +either six or nine days. Innumerable buildings, crowded in close +and crooked streets, supplied perpetual fuel for the flames; and +when they ceased, four only of the fourteen regions were left +entire; three were totally destroyed, and seven were deformed by +the relics of smoking and lacerated edifices. In the full meridian +of empire, the metropolis arose with fresh beauty from her ashes; +yet the memory of the old deplored the irreparable losses, the +arts of Greece, the trophies of victory, the monuments of primitive +or fabulous antiquity. In the days of distress and anarchy +every wound is mortal, every fall irretrievable; nor can the damage +be restored either by the public care of government or the +activity of private interest. Yet two causes may be alleged, which +render the calamity of fire more destructive to a flourishing than +a decayed city. 1. The more combustible materials of brick, +timber, and metals are first melted and consumed, but the +flames may play without injury or effect on the naked walls and +massy arches that have been despoiled of their ornaments. 2. It +is among the common and plebeian habitations that a mischievous +spark is most easily blown to a conflagration; but as soon as +they are devoured, the greater edifices which have resisted or +escaped are left as so many islands in a state of solitude and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 6320]</a></span> +safety. From her situation, Rome is exposed to the danger of +frequent inundations. Without excepting the Tiber, the rivers +that descend from either side of the Apennine have a short and +irregular course; a shallow stream in the summer heats; an impetuous +torrent when it is swelled in the spring or winter by +the fall of rain and the melting of the snows. When the current +is repelled from the sea by adverse winds, when the ordinary bed +is inadequate to the weight of waters, they rise above the banks +and overspread without limits or control the plains and cities of +the adjacent country. Soon after the triumph of the first Punic +War, the Tiber was increased by unusual rains; and the inundation, +surpassing all former measure of time and place, destroyed +all the buildings that were situate below the hills of Rome. +According to the variety of ground, the same mischief was +produced by different means; and the edifices were either swept +away by the sudden impulse, or dissolved and undermined by +the long continuance of the flood. Under the reign of Augustus +the same calamity was renewed: the lawless river overturned the +palaces and temples on its banks; and after the labors of the +Emperor in cleansing and widening the bed that was incumbered +with ruins, the vigilance of his successors was exercised by similar +dangers and designs. The project of diverting into new +channels the Tiber itself, or some of the dependent streams, was +long opposed by superstition and local interests; nor did the use +compensate the toil and costs of the tardy and imperfect execution. +The servitude of rivers is the noblest and most important +victory which man has obtained over the licentiousness of nature; +and if such were the ravages of the Tiber under a firm and active +government, what could oppose, or who can enumerate, the +injuries of the city after the fall of the Western Empire? A +remedy was at length produced by the evil itself: the accumulation +of rubbish and the earth that has been washed down from +the hills is supposed to have elevated the plain of Rome fourteen +or fifteen feet perhaps above the ancient level: and the +modern city is less accessible to the attacks of the river.</p> + +<p>II. The crowd of writers of every nation who impute the +destruction of the Roman monuments to the Goths and the +Christians, have neglected to inquire how far they were animated +by a hostile principle, and how far they possessed the means and +the leisure to satiate their enmity. In the preceding volumes +of this history I have described the triumph of barbarism and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 6321]</a></span> +religion; and I can only resume in a few words their real or +imaginary connection with the ruin of ancient Rome. Our fancy +may create or adopt a pleasing romance: that the Goths and +Vandals sallied from Scandinavia, ardent to avenge the flight of +Odin, to break the chains and to chastise the oppressors of mankind; +that they wished to burn the records of classic literature, +and to found their national architecture on the broken members +of the Tuscan and Corinthian orders. But in simple truth, the +Northern conquerors were neither sufficiently savage nor sufficiently +refined to entertain such aspiring ideas of destruction and +revenge. The shepherds of Scythia and Germany had been educated +in the armies of the Empire, whose discipline they acquired +and whose weakness they invaded; with the familiar use of the +Latin tongue, they had learned to reverence the name and titles +of Rome; and though incapable of emulating, they were more +inclined to admire than to abolish the arts and studies of a +brighter period. In the transient possession of a rich and unresisting +capital, the soldiers of Alaric and Genseric were stimulated +by the passions of a victorious army; amidst the wanton +indulgence of lust or cruelty, portable wealth was the object of +their search; nor could they derive either pride or pleasure from +the unprofitable reflection that they had battered to the ground +the works of the consuls and Cæsars. Their moments were +indeed precious: the Goths evacuated Rome on the sixth, the +Vandals on the fifteenth day, and though it be far more difficult +to build than to destroy, their hasty assault would have made +a slight impression on the solid piles of antiquity. We may +remember that both Alaric and Genseric affected to spare the +buildings of the city; that they subsisted in strength and beauty +under the auspicious government of Theodoric; and that the momentary +resentment of Totila was disarmed by his own temper +and the advice of his friends and enemies. From these innocent +Barbarians the reproach may be transferred to the Catholics of +Rome. The statues, altars, and houses of the dæmons were an +abomination in their eyes; and in the absolute command of the +city, they might labor with zeal and perseverance to erase the +idolatry of their ancestors. The demolition of the temples in +the East affords to <i>them</i> an example of conduct, and to <i>us</i> an +argument of belief; and it is probable that a portion of guilt or +merit may be imputed with justice to the Roman proselytes. Yet +their abhorrence was confined to the monuments of heathen +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 6322]</a></span> +superstition; and the civil structures that were dedicated to +the business or pleasure of society might be preserved without +injury or scandal. The change of religion was accomplished +not by a popular tumult, but by the decrees of the emperors, of +the Senate, and of time. Of the Christian hierarchy, the bishops +of Rome were commonly the most prudent and least fanatic; +nor can any positive charge be opposed to the meritorious act +of saving and converting the majestic structure of the Pantheon.</p> + +<p>III. The value of any object that supplies the wants or pleasures +of mankind is compounded of its substance and its form, of +the materials and the manufacture. Its price must depend on +the number of persons by whom it may be acquired and used; +on the extent of the market; and consequently on the ease or +difficulty of remote exportation according to the nature of the +commodity, its local situation, and the temporary circumstances +of the world. The Barbarian conquerors of Rome usurped in a +moment the toil and treasure of successive ages; but except the +luxuries of immediate consumption, they must view without +desire all that could not be removed from the city in the Gothic +wagons or the fleet of the Vandals. Gold and silver were the +first objects of their avarice; as in every country, and in the +smallest compass, they represent the most ample command of +the industry and possessions of mankind. A vase or a statue of +those precious metals might tempt the vanity of some Barbarian +chief; but the grosser multitude, regardless of the form, was +tenacious only of the substance; and the melted ingots might be +readily divided and stamped into the current coin of the empire. +The less active or less fortunate robbers were reduced to the +baser plunder of brass, lead, iron, and copper: whatever had +escaped the Goths and Vandals was pillaged by the Greek tyrants; +and the Emperor Constans in his rapacious visit stripped the +bronze tiles from the roof of the Pantheon. The edifices of +Rome might be considered as a vast and various mine: the first +labor of extracting the materials was already performed; the +metals were purified and cast; the marbles were hewn and polished; +and after foreign and domestic rapine had been satiated, +the remains of the city, could a purchaser have been found, were +still venal. The monuments of antiquity had been left naked of +their precious ornaments; but the Romans would demolish with +their own hands the arches and walls, if the hope of profit could +surpass the cost of the labor and exportation. If Charlemagne +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 6323]</a></span> +had fixed in Italy the seat of the Western Empire, his genius +would have aspired to restore, rather than to violate, the works +of the Cæsars: but policy confined the French monarch to the +forests of Germany; his taste could be gratified only by destruction; +and the new palace of Aix-la-Chapelle was decorated +with the marbles of Ravenna and Rome. Five hundred years +after Charlemagne, a king of Sicily, Robert,—the wisest and +most liberal sovereign of the age,—was supplied with the same +materials by the easy navigation of the Tiber and the sea; and +Petrarch sighs an indignant complaint that the ancient capital of +the world should adorn from her own bowels the slothful luxury +of Naples. But these examples of plunder or purchase were rare +in the darker ages; and the Romans, alone and unenvied, might +have applied to their private or public use the remaining structures +of antiquity, if in their present form and situation they had +not been useless in a great measure to the city and its inhabitants. +The walls still described the old circumference, but the +city had descended from the seven hills into the Campus Martius; +and some of the noblest monuments which had braved the injuries +of time were left in a desert, far remote from the habitations +of mankind. The palaces of the senators were no longer +adapted to the manners or fortunes of their indigent successors: +the use of baths and porticos was forgotten; in the sixth century +the games of the theatre, amphitheatre, and circus had +been interrupted; some temples were devoted to the prevailing +worship, but the Christian churches preferred the holy figure of +the cross; and fashion, or reason, had distributed after a peculiar +model the cells and offices of the cloister. Under the ecclesiastical +reign, the number of these pious foundations was enormously +multiplied; and the city was crowded with forty monasteries of +men, twenty of women, and sixty chapters and colleges of canons +and priests, who aggravated instead of relieving the depopulation +of the tenth century. But if the forms of ancient architecture +were disregarded by a people insensible of their use +and beauty, the plentiful materials were applied to every call of +necessity or superstition; till the fairest columns of the Ionic and +Corinthian orders, the richest marbles of Paros and Numidia, +were degraded, perhaps to the support of a convent or a stable. +The daily havoc which is perpetrated by the Turks in the cities +of Greece and Asia may afford a melancholy example; and in the +gradual destruction of the monuments of Rome, Sixtus the Fifth +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 6324]</a></span> +may alone be excused for employing the stones of the Septizonium +in the glorious edifice of St. Peter's. A fragment, a ruin, howsoever +mangled or profaned, may be viewed with pleasure and +regret; but the greater part of the marble was deprived of substance, +as well as of place and proportion: it was burnt to lime +for the purpose of cement. Since the arrival of Poggius, the +temple of Concord and many capital structures had vanished +from his eyes; and an epigram of the same age expresses a just +and pious fear that the continuance of this practice would finally +annihilate all the monuments of antiquity. The smallness of their +numbers was the sole check on the demands and depredations of +the Romans. The imagination of Petrarch might create the +presence of a mighty people; and I hesitate to believe that +even in the fourteenth century they could be reduced to a contemptible +list of thirty-three thousand inhabitants. From that +period to the reign of Leo the Tenth, if they multiplied to the +amount of eighty-five thousand, the increase of citizens was in +some degree pernicious to the ancient city.</p> + +<p>IV. I have reserved for the last, the most potent and forcible +cause of destruction, the domestic hostilities of the Romans themselves. +Under the dominion of the Greek and French emperors, +the peace of the city was disturbed by accidental though frequent +seditions: it is from the decline of the latter, from the +beginning of the tenth century, that we may date the licentiousness +of private war, which violated with impunity the laws of +the Code and the gospel, without respecting the majesty of the +absent sovereign or the presence and person of the vicar of +Christ. In a dark period of five hundred years, Rome was perpetually +afflicted by the sanguinary quarrels of the nobles and the +people, the Guelphs and Ghibelines, the Colonna and Ursini; and +if much has escaped the knowledge, and much is unworthy of +the notice, of history, I have exposed in the two preceding chapters +the causes and effects of the public disorders. At such a +time, when every quarrel was decided by the sword and none +could trust their lives or properties to the impotence of law, the +powerful citizens were armed for safety, or offense, against the +domestic enemies whom they feared or hated. Except Venice +alone, the same dangers and designs were common to all the +free republics of Italy; and the nobles usurped the prerogative +of fortifying their houses and erecting strong towers that were +capable of resisting a sudden attack. The cities were filled with +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 6325]</a></span> +these hostile edifices; and the example of Lucca, which contained +three hundred towers, her law which confined their height to +the measure of fourscore feet, may be extended with suitable latitude +to the more opulent and populous States. The first step of +the senator Brancaleone in the establishment of peace and justice, +was to demolish (as we have already seen) one hundred and +forty of the towers of Rome; and in the last days of anarchy +and discord, as late as the reign of Martin the Fifth, forty-four +still stood in one of the thirteen or fourteen regions of the city. +To this mischievous purpose the remains of antiquity were most +readily adapted: the temples and arches afforded a broad and +solid basis for the new structures of brick and stone; and we can +name the modern turrets that were raised on the triumphal monuments +of Julius Cæsar, Titus, and the Antonines. With some slight +alterations, a theatre, an amphitheatre, a mausoleum, was transformed +into a strong and spacious citadel. I need not repeat +that the mole of Adrian has assumed the title and form of the +castle of St. Angelo; the Septizonium of Severus was capable of +standing against a royal army; the sepulchre of Metella has sunk +under its outworks; the theatres of Pompey and Marcellus were +occupied by the Savelli and Ursini families; and the rough fortress +has been gradually softened to the splendor and elegance of +an Italian palace. Even the churches were encompassed with +arms and bulwarks, and the military engines on the roof of St. +Peter's were the terror of the Vatican and the scandal of the +Christian world. Whatever is fortified will be attacked; and +whatever is attacked may be destroyed. Could the Romans +have wrested from the popes the castle of St. Angelo, they had +resolved by a public decree to annihilate that monument of servitude. +Every building of defense was exposed to a siege; and in +every siege the arts and engines of destruction were laboriously +employed. After the death of Nicholas the Fourth, Rome, without +a sovereign or a senate, was abandoned six months to the +fury of civil war. "The houses," says a cardinal and poet of the +times, "were crushed by the weight and velocity of enormous +stones; the walls were perforated by the strokes of the battering-ram; +the towers were involved in fire and smoke; and the +assailants were stimulated by rapine and revenge." The work +was consummated by the tyranny of the laws; and the factions +of Italy alternately exercised a blind and thoughtless vengeance +on their adversaries, whose houses and castles they razed to the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 6326]</a></span> +ground. In comparing the <i>days</i> of foreign, with the <i>ages</i> of +domestic hostility, we must pronounce that the latter have been +far more ruinous to the city; and our opinion is confirmed by +the evidence of Petrarch. "Behold," says the laureate, "the +relics of Rome, the image of her pristine greatness! neither time +nor the Barbarian can boast the merit of this stupendous destruction: +it was perpetrated by her own citizens, by the most illustrious +of her sons; and your ancestors [he writes to a noble +Annibaldi] have done with battering-ram what the Punic hero +could not accomplish with the sword." The influence of the two +last principles of decay must in some degree be multiplied by +each other, since the houses and towers which were subverted +by civil war required a new and perpetual supply from the monuments +of antiquity.</p> + +<p>These general observations may be separately applied to the +amphitheatre of Titus, which has obtained the name of the Coliseum, +either from its magnitude or from Nero's colossal statue; +an edifice, had it been left to time and nature, which might perhaps +have claimed an eternal duration. The curious antiquaries +who have computed the numbers and seats are disposed to +believe that above the upper row of stone steps the amphitheatre +was encircled and elevated with several stages of wooden galleries, +which were repeatedly consumed by fire, and restored by the +emperors. Whatever was precious, or portable, or profane, the +statues of gods and heroes, and the costly ornaments of sculpture +which were cast in brass or overspread with leaves of silver +and gold, became the first prey of conquest or fanaticism, of the +avarice of the Barbarians or the Christians. In the massy stones +of the Coliseum, many holes are discerned; and the two most +probable conjectures represent the various accidents of its decay. +These stones were connected by solid links of brass or iron, nor +had the eye of rapine overlooked the value of the baser metals; +the vacant space was converted into a fair or market; the artisans +of the Coliseum are mentioned in an ancient survey; and +the chasms were perforated or enlarged to receive the poles that +supported the shops or tents of the mechanic trades. Reduced to +its naked majesty, the Flavian amphitheatre was contemplated +with awe and admiration by the pilgrims of the North; and their +rude enthusiasm broke forth in a sublime proverbial expression, +which is recorded in the eighth century, in the fragments of the +venerable Bede: "As long as the Coliseum stands, Rome shall +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 6327]</a></span> +stand; when the Coliseum falls, Rome will fall; when Rome +falls, the world will fall." In the modern system of war a situation +commanded by the three hills would not be chosen for a +fortress: but the strength of the walls and arches could resist +the engines of assault; a numerous garrison might be lodged in +the inclosure; and while one faction occupied the Vatican and +the Capitol, the other was intrenched in the Lateran and the +Coliseum.</p> + +<p>The abolition at Rome of the ancient games must be understood +with some latitude; and the carnival sports of the Testacean +Mount and the Circus Agonalis were regulated by the law +or custom of the city. The senator presided with dignity and +pomp to adjudge and distribute the prizes, the gold ring, or the +<i>pallium</i>, as it was styled, of cloth or silk. A tribute on the +Jews supplied the annual expense; and the races on foot, on +horseback, or in chariots, were ennobled by a tilt and tournament +of seventy-two of the Roman youth. In the year 1332 a bull-feast, +after the fashion of the Moors and Spaniards, was celebrated +in the Coliseum itself; and the living manners are painted in a +diary of the times. A convenient order of benches was restored, +and a general proclamation as far as Rimini and Ravenna invited +the nobles to exercise their skill and courage in this perilous adventure. +The Roman ladies were marshaled in three squadrons +and seated in three balconies, which on this day, the third of September, +were lined with scarlet cloth. The fair Jacova di Rovere +led the matrons from beyond the Tiber, a pure and native race +who still represent the features and character of antiquity. The +remainder of the city was divided as usual between the Colonna +and Ursini: the two factions were proud of the number and +beauty of their female bands: the charms of Savella Ursini are +mentioned with praise, and the Colonna regretted the absence of +the youngest of their house, who had sprained her ankle in the +garden of Nero's tower. The lots of the champions were drawn +by an old and respectable citizen; and they descended into the +arena, or pit, to encounter the wild bulls, on foot as it should +seem, with a single spear. Amidst the crowd, our annalist has +selected the names, colors, and devices of twenty of the most +conspicuous knights. Several of the names are the most illustrious +of Rome and the ecclesiastical State: Malatesta, Polenta, +Della Valle, Cafarello, Savelli, Capoccio, Conti, Annibaldi, Altieri, +Corsi: the colors were adapted to their taste and situation: the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 6328]</a></span> +devices are expressive of hope or despair, and breathe the spirit +of gallantry and arms. "I am alone, like the youngest of the +Horatii," the confidence of an intrepid stranger; "I live disconsolate," +a weeping widower; "I burn under the ashes," a discreet +lover; "I adore Lavinia, or Lucretia," the ambiguous +declaration of a modern passion; "My faith is as pure," the +motto of a white livery; "Who is stronger than myself?" of a +lion's hide; "If I am drowned in blood, what a pleasant death!" +the wish of ferocious courage. The pride or prudence of the +Ursini restrained them from the field, which was occupied by +three of their hereditary rivals, whose inscriptions denoted the +lofty greatness of the Colonna name: "Though sad, I am strong;" +"Strong as I am great;" "If I fall," addressing himself to the +spectators, "you fall with me"—intimating (says the contemporary +writer) that while the other families were the subjects of +the Vatican, they alone were the supporters of the Capitol. The +combats of the amphitheatre were dangerous and bloody. Every +champion successively encountered a wild bull; and the victory +may be ascribed to the quadrupeds, since no more than eleven +were left on the field, with the loss of nine wounded and eighteen +killed on the side of their adversaries. Some of the noblest families +might mourn; but the pomp of the funerals in the churches +of St. John Lateran and Sta. Maria Maggiore afforded a second +holiday to the people. Doubtless it was not in such conflicts that +the blood of the Romans should have been shed: yet in blaming +their rashness we are compelled to applaud their gallantry; +and the noble volunteers who display their magnificence and risk +their lives under the balconies of the fair, excite a more generous +sympathy than the thousands of captives and malefactors +who were reluctantly dragged to the scene of slaughter.</p> + +<p>This use of the amphitheatre was a rare, perhaps a singular, +festival: the demand for the materials was a daily and continual +want which the citizens could gratify without restraint or remorse. +In the fourteenth century a scandalous act of concord secured to +both factions the privilege of extracting stones from the free and +common quarry of the Coliseum; and Poggius laments that the +greater part of these stones had been burnt to lime by the folly +of the Romans. To check this abuse, and to prevent the nocturnal +crimes that might be perpetrated in the vast and gloomy +recess, Eugenius the Fourth surrounded it with a wall; and by +a charter long extant, granted both the ground and edifice to the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 6329]</a></span> +monks of an adjacent convent. After his death the wall was +overthrown in a tumult of the people; and had they themselves +respected the noblest monument of their fathers, they might have +justified the resolve that it should never be degraded to private +property. The inside was damaged; but in the middle of the +sixteenth century, an era of taste and learning, the exterior circumference +of one thousand six hundred and twelve feet was still +entire and inviolate; a triple elevation of fourscore arches which +rose to the height of one hundred and eight feet. Of the present +ruin, the nephews of Paul the Third are the guilty agents; +and every traveler who views the Farnese palace may curse the +sacrilege and luxury of these upstart princes. A similar reproach +is applied to the Barberini; and the repetition of injury might +be dreaded from every reign, till the Coliseum was placed under +the safeguard of religion by the most liberal of the pontiffs, Benedict +the Fourteenth, who consecrated a spot which persecution +and fable had stained with the blood of so many Christian martyrs.</p> + +<p>When Petrarch first gratified his eyes with a view of those +monuments, whose scattered fragments so far surpass the most +eloquent descriptions, he was astonished at the supine indifference +of the Romans themselves; he was humbled rather than elated +by the discovery that, except his friend Rienzi and one of the +Colonna, a stranger of the Rhône was more conversant with these +antiquities than the nobles and natives of the metropolis. The +ignorance and credulity of the Romans are elaborately displayed +in the old survey of the city, which was composed about the +beginning of the thirteenth century; and without dwelling on the +manifold errors of name and place, the legend of the Capitol may +provoke a smile of contempt and indignation. "The Capitol," +says the anonymous writer, "is so named as being the head of +the world, where the consuls and senators formerly resided for +the government of the city and the globe. The strong and lofty +walls were covered with glass and gold, and crowned with a roof +of the richest and most curious carving. Below the citadel stood +a palace, of gold for the greatest part, decorated with precious +stones, and whose value might be esteemed at one-third of the +world itself. The statues of all the provinces were arranged in +order, each with a small bell suspended from its neck; and such +was the contrivance of art magic, that if the province rebelled +against Rome the statue turned round to that quarter of the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 6330]</a></span> +heavens, the bell rang, the prophet of the Capitol reported the +prodigy, and the Senate was admonished of the impending danger." +A second example, of less importance though of equal +absurdity, may be drawn from the two marble horses, led by two +naked youths, which have since been transported from the baths +of Constantine to the Quirinal Hill. The groundless application +of the names of Phidias and Praxiteles may perhaps be excused: +but these Grecian sculptors should not have been removed above +four hundred years from the age of Pericles to that of Tiberius; +they should not have been transformed into two philosophers or +magicians, whose nakedness was the symbol of truth or knowledge, +who revealed to the Emperor his most secret actions, and +after refusing all pecuniary recompense, solicited the honor of +leaving this eternal monument of themselves. Thus, awake to +the power of magic, the Romans were insensible to the beauties +of art: no more than five statues were visible to the eyes of +Poggius; and of the multitudes which chance or design had +buried under the ruins, the resurrection was fortunately delayed +till a safer and more enlightened age. The Nile, which now +adorns the Vatican, had been explored by some laborers in digging +a vineyard near the temple, or convent, of the Minerva: but +the impatient proprietor, who was tormented by some visits of +curiosity, restored the unprofitable marble to its former grave. +The discovery of the statue of Pompey, ten feet in length, was +the occasion of a lawsuit. It had been found under a partition +wall: the equitable judge had pronounced that the head should +be separated from the body to satisfy the claims of the contiguous +owners; and the sentence would have been executed if +the intercession of a cardinal and the liberality of a pope had not +rescued the Roman hero from the hands of his barbarous countrymen.</p> + +<p>But the clouds of barbarism were gradually dispelled, and the +peaceful authority of Martin the Fifth and his successors restored +the ornaments of the city as well as the order of the ecclesiastical +State. The improvements of Rome since the fifteenth century +have not been the spontaneous produce of freedom and +industry. The first and most natural root of a great city is the +labor and populousness of the adjacent country, which supplies +the materials of subsistence, of manufactures, and of foreign trade. +But the greater part of the Campagna of Rome is reduced to a +dreary and desolate wilderness; the overgrown estates of the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 6331]</a></span> +princes and the clergy are cultivated by the lazy hands of indigent +and hopeless vassals; and the scanty harvests are confined +or exported for the benefit of a monopoly. A second and more +artificial cause of the growth of a metropolis is the residence of +a monarch, the expense of a luxurious court, and the tributes of +dependent provinces. Those provinces and tributes had been lost +in the fall of the Empire: and if some streams of the silver of +Peru and the gold of Brazil have been attracted by the Vatican, +the revenues of the cardinals, the fees of office, the oblations of +pilgrims and clients, and the remnant of ecclesiastical taxes, afford +a poor and precarious supply, which maintains however the idleness +of the court and city. The population of Rome, far below +the measure of the great capitals of Europe, does not exceed one +hundred and seventy thousand inhabitants; and within the spacious +inclosure of the walls the largest portion of the seven hills +is overspread with vineyards and ruins. The beauty and splendor +of the modern city may be ascribed to the abuses of the government, +to the influence of superstition. Each reign (the exceptions +are rare) has been marked by the rapid elevation of a new +family, enriched by the childless pontiff at the expense of the +Church and country. The palaces of these fortunate nephews are +the most costly monuments of elegance and servitude: the perfect +arts of architecture, painting, and sculpture have been prostituted +in their service; and their galleries and gardens are +decorated with the most precious works of antiquity which taste +or vanity has prompted them to collect. The ecclesiastical revenues +were more decently employed by the popes themselves in +the pomp of the Catholic worship; but it is superfluous to enumerate +their pious foundations of altars, chapels, and churches, +since these lesser stars are eclipsed by the sun of the Vatican, by +the dome of St. Peter, the most glorious structure that ever has +been applied to the use of religion. The fame of Julius the +Second, Leo the Tenth, and Sixtus the Fifth is accompanied by +the superior merit of Bramante and Fontana, of Raphael and +Michael Angelo; and the same munificence which had been displayed +in palaces and temples was directed with equal zeal to +revive and emulate the labors of antiquity. Prostrate obelisks +were raised from the ground and erected in the most conspicuous +places; of the eleven aqueducts of the Cæsars and consuls, +three were restored; the artificial rivers were conducted over a +long series of old, or of new arches, to discharge into marble +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 6332]</a></span> +basins a flood of salubrious and refreshing waters: and the spectator, +impatient to ascend the steps of St. Peter's, is detained by +a column of Egyptian granite, which rises between two lofty and +perpetual fountains to the height of one hundred and twenty +feet. The map, the description, the monuments of ancient Rome +have been elucidated by the diligence of the antiquarian and the +student; and the footsteps of heroes, the relics, not of superstition +but of empire, are devoutly visited by a new race of pilgrims +from the remote and once savage countries of the North.</p> + +<p class="trans">All the foregoing selections are made from 'The History of the Decline and +Fall of the Roman Empire'</p> + + + + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 6333]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="WILLIAM_SCHWENCK_GILBERT" id="WILLIAM_SCHWENCK_GILBERT"></a>WILLIAM SCHWENCK GILBERT</h2> + +<h4>(1836-)</h4> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 90px;"> +<img src="images/capw.png" width="90" height="91" alt="W" title="W" /> +</div><p class="dropcap">hen, after appearing from time to time in the London Fun, +the 'Bab Ballads' were published in book form in 1870, +everybody, young and old, found them provocative of hearty +laughter. "Much sound and little sense," was the title-page motto. +Perhaps the fact that Mr. Gilbert's readers did not know why they +laughed was one great charm of the ballads. The humor was felt, +not analyzed, and involved no mental fatigue. If there was "little +sense," no continuity of meaning, there was usually significant suggestion; +and social foibles were touched off +with good-natured irony in a delightfully +inconsequent fashion. The "much sound" +was a spirited lyric swing which clung to +the memory, a rich rhythm, and a rollicking +spontaneity, which disregarded considerations +of grammar and pronunciation in a +way that only added to the fun.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 170px;"> +<img src="images/gilbert.png" width="170" height="213" alt="William S. Gilbert" title="William S. Gilbert" /> +<span class="caption"><span class="smcap">William S. Gilbert</span></span> +</div> + +<p>The 'Bab Ballads,' and 'More Bab Ballads' +which appeared in 1872, have become +classic. In many of them may be found the +germs of the librettos which have made Gilbert +famous in comic opera. 'Pinafore,' +'The Mikado,' 'Patience,' and many others +of a long and well-known list written to Sir +Arthur Sullivan's music, have furnished the public with many popular +songs. A volume of dainty lyrics has been made up from them; and, +entitled 'Songs of a Savoyard' (from the Savoy Theatre of London, +where the operas were first represented), was published in 1890.</p> + +<p>Mr. Gilbert was born in London November 18th, 1836, and educated +in that city; after his graduation from the University of London +he studied law, and was called to the bar of the Inner Temple in +1863. Five years later he became a captain of the Royal Aberdeenshire +Highlanders. The success of his first play, 'Dulcamara,' in +1866, led him to abandon the law, and he has since devoted himself +to authorship.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 6334]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CAPTAIN_REECE" id="CAPTAIN_REECE"></a>CAPTAIN REECE</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Of all the ships upon the blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No ship contained a better crew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than that of worthy Captain Reece,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Commanding of The Mantlepiece.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He was adored by all his men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For worthy Captain Reece, R.N.,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did all that lay within him to<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Promote the comfort of his crew.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If ever they were dull or sad,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their captain danced to them like mad,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or told, to make the time pass by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Droll legends of his infancy.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A feather-bed had every man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Warm slippers and hot-water can,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brown Windsor from the captain's store;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A valet, too, to every four.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Did they with thirst in summer burn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lo! seltzogenes at every turn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on all very sultry days<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cream ices handed round on trays.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then, currant wine and ginger pops<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stood handily on all the "tops";<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And also, with amusement rife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A "Zoetrope, or Wheel of Life."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">New volumes came across the sea<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From Mr. Mudie's libraree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Times and Saturday Review<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beguiled the leisure of the crew.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Kind-hearted Captain Reece, R.N.,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was quite devoted to his men;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In point of fact, good Captain Reece<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beatified The Mantelpiece.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">One summer eve, at half-past ten,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He said (addressing all his men):—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Come, tell me, please, what I can do<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To please and gratify my crew.<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 6335]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"By any reasonable plan<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll make you happy if I can,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My own convenience count as <i>nil:</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is my duty, and I will."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then up and answered William Lee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(The kindly captain's coxwain he,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A nervous, shy, low-spoken man);<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He cleared his throat, and thus began:—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"You have a daughter, Captain Reece,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ten female cousins and a niece,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A ma, if what I'm told is true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Six sisters, and an aunt or two.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Now, somehow, sir, it seems to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More friendly-like we all should be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If you united of 'em to<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unmarried members of the crew.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"If you'd ameliorate our life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let each select from them a wife;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And as for nervous me, old pal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give me your own enchanting gal!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Good Captain Reece, that worthy man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Debated on his coxwain's plan:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"I quite agree," he said, "O Bill:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is my duty, and I will.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"My daughter, that enchanting gurl,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has just been promised to an Earl,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all my other familee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To peers of various degree.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"But what are dukes and viscounts to<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The happiness of all my crew?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The word I gave you I'll fulfill;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is my duty, and I will.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"As you desire it shall befall;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll settle thousands on you all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I shall be, despite my hoard,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The only bachelor on board."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The boatswain of the Mantelpiece,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He blushed and spoke to Captain Reece:—<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 6336]</a></span><span class="i0">"I beg your Honor's leave," he said:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"If you would wish to go and wed,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I have a widowed mother who<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would be the very thing for you—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She long has loved you from afar:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She washes for you, Captain R."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The captain saw the dame that day—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Addressed her in his playful way:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"And did it want a wedding ring?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It was a tempting ickle sing!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Well, well, the chaplain I will seek,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We'll all be married this day week<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At yonder church upon the hill;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is my duty, and I will!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The sisters, cousins, aunts, and niece,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And widowed ma of Captain Reece,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Attended there as they were bid:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It was their duty, and they did.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="THE_YARN_OF_THE_NANCY_BELL" id="THE_YARN_OF_THE_NANCY_BELL"></a>THE YARN OF THE NANCY BELL</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Twas on the shores that round our coast<br /></span> +<span class="i1">From Deal to Ramsgate span,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I found alone on a piece of stone<br /></span> +<span class="i1">An elderly naval man.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His hair was weedy, his beard was long,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And weedy and long was he;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I heard this wight on the shore recite,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In a singular minor key:—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh, I am a cook, and a captain bold,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the mate of the Nancy brig,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the crew of the captain's gig."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And he shook his fists and he tore his hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Till I really felt afraid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I couldn't help thinking the man had been drinking,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And so I simply said:—<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 6337]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O elderly man, it's little I know<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of the duties of men of the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I'll eat my hand if I understand<br /></span> +<span class="i1">However you can be<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"At once a cook, and a captain bold,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the mate of the Nancy brig,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the crew of the captain's gig."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And he gave a hitch to his trousers, which<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Is a trick all seamen larn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And having got rid of a thumping quid,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">He spun his painful yarn:—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Twas in the good ship Nancy Bell<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That we sailed to the Indian Sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there on a reef we come to grief,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Which has often occurred to me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And pretty nigh all the crew was drowned<br /></span> +<span class="i1">(There was seventy-seven o' soul),<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And only ten of the Nancy's men<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Said 'Here!' to the muster-roll.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"There was me and the cook and the captain bold,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the mate of the Nancy brig,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the crew of the captain's gig.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"For a month we'd neither wittles nor drink,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Till a-hungry we did feel;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So we drawed a lot, and accordin', shot<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The captain for our meal.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The next lot fell to the Nancy's mate,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And a delicate dish he made;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then our appetite with the midshipmite<br /></span> +<span class="i1">We seven survivors stayed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And then we murdered the bo'sun tight,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And he much resembled pig;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then we wittled free, did the cook and me<br /></span> +<span class="i1">On the crew of the captain's gig.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Then only the cook and me was left,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the delicate question, 'Which<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 6338]</a></span><span class="i0">Of us two goes to the kettle?' arose,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And we argued it out as sich.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"For I loved that cook as a brother, I did,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the cook he worshiped me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But we'd both be blowed if we'd either be stowed<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In the other chap's hold, you see.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'I'll be eat if you dines off me,' says Tom;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">'Yes, that,' says I, 'you'll be:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'm boiled if I die, my friend,' quoth I;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And 'Exactly so,' quoth he.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Says he, 'Dear James, to murder me<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Were a foolish thing to do,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For don't you see that you can't cook <i>me</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">While I can—and will—cook <i>you</i>?'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"So he boils the water, and takes the salt<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the pepper in portions true<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Which he never forgot), and some chopped shalot,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And some sage and parsley too.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Come here,' says he, with a proper pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Which his smiling features tell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"'Twill soothing be if I let you see<br /></span> +<span class="i1">How extremely nice you'll smell.'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And he stirred it round and round and round,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And he sniffed at the foaming froth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I ups with his heels, and smothers his squeals<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In the scum of the boiling broth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And I eat that cook in a week or less,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And—as I eating be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The last of his chops, why, I almost drops,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">For a wessel in sight I see!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<hr style='width: 15%;' /> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And I never larf, and I never smile,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And I never lark nor play,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But sit and croak, and a single joke<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I have—which is to say:—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Oh, I am a cook, and a captain bold,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the mate of the Nancy brig,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the crew of the captain's gig!'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 6339]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="THE_BISHOP_OF_RUM-TI-FOO" id="THE_BISHOP_OF_RUM-TI-FOO"></a>THE BISHOP OF RUM-TI-FOO</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">From east and south the holy clan<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of bishops gathered to a man;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To Synod, called Pan-Anglican,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In flocking crowds they came.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among them was a bishop who<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had lately been appointed to<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The balmy isle of Rum-ti-Foo,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And Peter was his name.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His people—twenty-three in sum—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They played the eloquent tum-tum,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lived on scalps served up in rum—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The only sauce they knew.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When first good Bishop Peter came<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(For Peter was that bishop's name),<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To humor them, he did the same<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As they of Rum-ti-Foo.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His flock, I've often heard him tell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(His name was Peter) loved him well,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And summoned by the sound of bell,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In crowds together came.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Oh, massa, why you go away?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, Massa Peter, please to stay."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(They called him Peter, people say,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Because it was his name.)<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He told them all good boys to be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sailed away across the sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At London Bridge that bishop he<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Arrived one Tuesday night;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And as that night he homeward strode<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To his Pan-Anglican abode,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He passed along the Borough Road,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And saw a gruesome sight.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He saw a crowd assembled round<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A person dancing on the ground,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who straight began to leap and bound<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With all his might and main.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see that dancing man he stopped,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who twirled and wriggled, skipped and hopped,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then down incontinently dropped,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And then sprang up again.<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 6340]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The bishop chuckled at the sight.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"This style of dancing would delight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A simple Rum-ti-Foozleite:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I'll learn it if I can,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To please the tribe when I get back."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He begged the man to teach his knack.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Right reverend sir, in half a crack!"<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Replied that dancing man.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The dancing man he worked away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And taught the bishop every day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dancer skipped like any fay—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Good Peter did the same.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bishop buckled to his task,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With <i>battements</i> and <i>pas de basque</i>.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(I'll tell you, if you care to ask,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That Peter was his name.)<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Come, walk like this," the dancer said;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Stick out your toes—stick in your head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stalk on with quick, galvanic tread—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Your fingers thus extend;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The attitude's considered quaint."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The weary bishop, feeling faint,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Replied, "I do not say it ain't,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But 'Time!' my Christian friend!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"We now proceed to something new:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dance as the Paynes and Lauris do,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like this—one, two—one, two—one, two."<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The bishop, never proud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But in an overwhelming heat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(His name was Peter, I repeat)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Performed the Payne and Lauri feat,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And puffed his thanks aloud.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Another game the dancer planned:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Just take your ankle in your hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And try, my lord, if you can stand—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Your body stiff and stark.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If when revisiting your see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You learnt to hop on shore, like me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The novelty would striking be,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And must attract remark."<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 6341]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"No," said the worthy bishop, "no;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That is a length to which, I trow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Colonial bishops cannot go.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">You may express surprise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At finding bishops deal in pride—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But if that trick I ever tried,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I should appear undignified<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In Rum-ti-Foozle's eyes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The islanders of Rum-ti-Foo<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are well-conducted persons, who<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Approve a joke as much as you,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And laugh at it as such;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But if they saw their bishop land,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His leg supported in his hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The joke they wouldn't understand—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">'Twould pain them very much!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="GENTLE_ALICE_BROWN" id="GENTLE_ALICE_BROWN"></a>GENTLE ALICE BROWN</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It was a robber's daughter, and her name was Alice Brown;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her father was the terror of a small Italian town;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her mother was a foolish, weak, but amiable old thing:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But it isn't of her parents that I'm going for to sing.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As Alice was a-sitting at her window-sill one day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A beautiful young gentleman he chanced to pass that way;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She cast her eyes upon him, and he looked so good and true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That she thought, "I could be happy with a gentleman like you!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And every morning passed her house that cream of gentlemen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She knew she might expect him at a quarter unto ten;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sorter in the Custom-house, it was his daily road<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(The Custom-house was fifteen minutes' walk from her abode).<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But Alice was a pious girl, who knew it wasn't wise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To look at strange young sorters with expressive purple eyes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So she sought the village priest to whom her family confessed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The priest by whom their little sins were carefully assessed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O holy father," Alice said, "'twould grieve you, would it not,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To discover that I was a most disreputable lot?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all unhappy sinners I'm the most unhappy one!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The padre said, "Whatever have you been and gone and done?"<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 6342]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I have helped mamma to steal a little kiddy from its dad,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I've assisted dear papa in cutting up a little lad,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I've planned a little burglary and forged a little cheque,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And slain a little baby for the coral on its neck!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The worthy pastor heaved a sigh, and dropped a silent tear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And said, "You mustn't judge yourself too heavily, my dear:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It's wrong to murder babies, little corals for to fleece;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But sins like these one expiates at half-a-crown apiece.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Girls will be girls—you're very young, and flighty in your mind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Old heads upon young shoulders we must not expect to find;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We mustn't be too hard upon these little girlish tricks—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let's see—five crimes at half-a-crown—exactly twelve-and-six."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O father," little Alice cried, "your kindness makes me weep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You do these little things for me so singularly cheap;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your thoughtful liberality I never can forget;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But oh! there is another crime I haven't mentioned yet!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"A pleasant-looking gentleman, with pretty purple eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I've noticed at my window, as I've sat a-catching flies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He passes by it every day as certain as can be—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I blush to say I've winked at him and he has winked at me!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"For shame!" said Father Paul, "my erring daughter! On my word,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This is the most distressing news that I have ever heard.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why, naughty girl, your excellent papa has pledged your hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To a promising young robber, the lieutenant of his band!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"This dreadful piece of news will pain your worthy parents so!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They are the most remunerative customers I know;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For many, many years they've kept starvation from my doors:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I never knew so criminal a family as yours!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The common country folk in this insipid neighborhood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have nothing to confess, they're so ridiculously good;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if you marry any one respectable at all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why, you'll reform, and what will then become of Father Paul?"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The worthy priest, he up and drew his cowl upon his crown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And started off in haste to tell the news to Robber Brown—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To tell him how his daughter, who was now for marriage fit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had winked upon a sorter, who reciprocated it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Good Robber Brown he muffled up his anger pretty well;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He said, "I have a notion, and that notion I will tell:<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 6343]</a></span><span class="i0">I will nab this gay young sorter, terrify him into fits,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And get my gentle wife to chop him into little bits.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I've studied human nature, and I know a thing or two:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though a girl may fondly love a living gent, as many do—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A feeling of disgust upon her senses there will fall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When she looks upon his body chopped particularly small."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He traced that gallant sorter to a still suburban square;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He watched his opportunity, and seized him unaware;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He took a life-preserver and he hit him on the head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Mrs. Brown dissected him before she went to bed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And pretty little Alice grew more settled in her mind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She never more was guilty of a weakness of the kind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until at length good Robber Brown bestowed her pretty hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the promising young robber, the lieutenant of his band.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="THE_CAPTAIN_AND_THE_MERMAIDS" id="THE_CAPTAIN_AND_THE_MERMAIDS"></a>THE CAPTAIN AND THE MERMAIDS</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I sing a legend of the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So hard-a-port upon your lee!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A ship on starboard tack!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She's bound upon a private cruise—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(This is the kind of spice I use<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To give a salt-sea smack).<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Behold, on every afternoon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Save in a gale or strong monsoon)<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Great Captain Capel Cleggs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Great morally, though rather short)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sat at an open weather-port<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And aired his shapely legs.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And mermaids hung around in flocks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On cable chains and distant rocks,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To gaze upon those limbs;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For legs like those, of flesh and bone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are things "not generally known"<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To any merman timbs.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But mermen didn't seem to care<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Much time (as far as I'm aware)<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With Cleggs's legs to spend;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though mermaids swam around all day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gazed, exclaiming, "<i>That's</i> the way<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A gentleman should end!<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 6344]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"A pair of legs with well-cut knees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And calves and ankles such as these<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Which we in rapture hail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are far more eloquent, it's clear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(When clothed in silk and kerseymere),<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Than any nasty tail."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And Cleggs—a worthy, kind old boy—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rejoiced to add to others' joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And when the day was dry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Because it pleased the lookers-on,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He sat from morn till night—though con-<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Stitutionally shy.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At first the mermen laughed, "Pooh! pooh!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But finally they jealous grew,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And sounded loud recalls;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But vainly. So these fishy males<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Declared they too would clothe their tails<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In silken hose and smalls.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They set to work, these watermen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And made their nether robes—but when<br /></span> +<span class="i1">They drew with dainty touch<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The kerseymere upon their tails,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They found it scraped against their scales,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And hurt them very much.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The silk, besides, with which they chose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To deck their tails by way of hose<br /></span> +<span class="i1">(They never thought of shoon)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For such a use was much too thin,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It tore against the caudal fin,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And "went in ladders" soon.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So they designed another plan:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They sent their most seductive man,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">This note to him to show:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Our Monarch sends to Captain Cleggs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His humble compliments, and begs<br /></span> +<span class="i1">He'll join him down below;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"We've pleasant homes below the sea—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Besides, if Captain Cleggs should be<br /></span> +<span class="i1">(As our advices say)<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 6345]</a></span><span class="i0">A judge of mermaids, he will find<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our lady fish of every kind<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Inspection will repay."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Good Capel sent a kind reply,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Capel thought he could descry<br /></span> +<span class="i1">An admirable plan<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To study all their ways and laws—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(But not their lady fish, because<br /></span> +<span class="i1">He was a married man).<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The merman sank—the captain too<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Jumped overboard, and dropped from view<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Like stone from catapult;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when he reached the merman's lair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He certainly was welcomed there,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But ah! with what result!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They didn't let him learn their law,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or make a note of what he saw,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Or interesting mem.;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lady fish he couldn't find,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But that, of course, he didn't mind—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">He didn't come for them.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For though when Captain Capel sank,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mermen drawn in double rank<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Gave him a hearty hail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet when secure of Captain Cleggs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They cut off both his lovely legs,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And gave him <i>such</i> a tail!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When Captain Cleggs returned aboard,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His blithesome crew convulsive roar'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To see him altered so.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The admiralty did insist<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That he upon the half-pay list<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Immediately should go.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In vain declared the poor old salt,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"It's my misfortune—not my fault,"<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With tear and trembling lip—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In vain poor Capel begged and begged.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"A man must be completely legged<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Who rules a British ship."<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 6346]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So spake the stern First Lord aloud,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He was a wag, though very proud,—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And much rejoiced to say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"You're only half a captain now—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so, my worthy friend, I vow<br /></span> +<span class="i1">You'll only get half-pay!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="trans">All the above selections are made from 'Fifty Bab Ballads.'</p> + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 6347]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="RICHARD_WATSON_GILDER" id="RICHARD_WATSON_GILDER"></a>RICHARD WATSON GILDER</h2> + +<h4>(1844-)</h4> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 90px;"> +<img src="images/capr.png" width="90" height="90" alt="R" title="R" /> +</div><p class="dropcap">ichard Watson Gilder is the son of a clergyman, the Rev. +William H. Gilder, who published two literary reviews in +Philadelphia. He was born in Bordentown, New Jersey, +February 8th, 1844, and with such ancestry and home influence came +easily to journalism and literary work. He got his schooling in the +Bellevue Seminary, which was founded by his father. As with so +many young Americans of the time, the war came to interrupt his +studies; and in 1863 he served in the "Emergency Corps," in the +defense of Carlisle, Pennsylvania. Mr. Gilder +is one of the American writers who +have successfully combined journalism and +literature. He began by doing newspaper +work, and then by a natural transition became +in 1869 editor of Hours at Home, and +shortly thereafter associate editor of Scribner's +Magazine with Dr. J. G. Holland. +This representative monthly was changed +in name to The Century, and upon the +death of Dr. Holland in 1881 Mr. Gilder +became its editor-in-chief. His influence in +this conspicuous position has been wholesome +and helpful in the encouraging of literature, +and in the discussion of current +questions of importance through a popular medium which reaches great +numbers of the American people. The Century under his direction +has been receptive to young writers and artists of ability, and many +since known to fame made their maiden appearance in its pages.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 170px;"> +<img src="images/gilder.png" width="170" height="211" alt="Richard W. Gilder" title="Richard W. Gilder" /> +<span class="caption"><span class="smcap">Richard W. Gilder</span></span> +</div> + +<p>In addition to his influence on the literary movement, Mr. Gilder +has been active in philanthropic and political work. He has secured +legislation for the improvement of tenements in cities; he has taken +interest in the formation of public kindergartens; and given of his +time and strength to further other reforms. His influence in New +York City, too, has been a factor in developing the social aspects of +literary and art life there. From Dickinson College he has received +the degree of LL.D., and from Princeton that of L.H.D.</p> + +<p>Mr. Gilder's reputation as a writer is based upon his verse. +Only very occasionally does he publish an essay, though thoughtful, +strongly written editorials from his pen in his magazine are frequent. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 6348]</a></span> +But it is his verse-writing that has given him his place—a distinct +and honorable one—in American letters. The fine quality and promise +of his work was recognized upon the publication of 'The New +Day' in 1875, a first volume which was warmly received. It showed +the influence of Italian studies, and contained lyric work of much +imaginative beauty. The musicalness of it and the delicately ideal +treatment of the love passion were noticeable characteristics. In his +subsequent books—'The Celestial Passion,' 1887; 'Lyrics,' 1885 and +1887; 'Two Worlds, and Other Poems,' 1891; 'The Great Remembrance, +and Other Poems,' 1893: the contents of these being gathered +finally into the one volume 'Five Books of Song,' 1894—he has given +further proof of his genuine lyric gift, his work in later years having +a wider range of themes, a broadening vision and deepening purpose. +He remains nevertheless essentially a lyrist, a maker of songs; a thorough +artist who has seriousness, dignity, and charm. His is an earnest +nature, sensitive alike to vital contemporaneous problems and to +the honey-sweet voice of the Ideal.</p> + +<p>[All the following citations from Mr. Gilder's poems are copyrighted, and +are reprinted here by special permission of the author and his publishers.]</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="TWO_SONGS_FROM_THE_NEW_DAY" id="TWO_SONGS_FROM_THE_NEW_DAY"></a>TWO SONGS FROM 'THE NEW DAY'</h3> + +<h4>I</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not from the whole wide world I chose thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweetheart, light of the land and the sea!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wide, wide world could not inclose thee—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For thou art the whole wide world to me.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>II</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Years have flown since I knew thee first,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I know thee as water is known of thirst;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet I knew thee of old at the first sweet sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thou art strange to me, Love, to-night.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="DARK_THE_SOLEMN_SUNSET" id="DARK_THE_SOLEMN_SUNSET"></a>"ROSE-DARK THE SOLEMN SUNSET"</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Rose-dark the solemn sunset<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That holds my thought of thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With one star in the heavens<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And one star in the sea.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On high no lamp is lighted,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Nor where the long waves flow.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 6349]</a></span><span class="i0">Save the one star of evening<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the shadow star below.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Light of my life, the darkness<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Comes with the twilight dream;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou art the bright star shining,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And I but the shadowy gleam.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="NON_SINE_DOLORE" id="NON_SINE_DOLORE"></a>NON SINE DOLORE</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">What, then, is Life,—what Death?<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Thus the Answerer saith;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O faithless mortal, bend thy head and listen:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Down o'er the vibrant strings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That thrill, and moan, and mourn, and glisten,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The Master draws his bow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A voiceless pause: then upward, see, it springs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Free as a bird with unimprisoned wings!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In twain the chord was cloven,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">While, shaken with woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With breaks of instant joy all interwoven,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Piercing the heart with lyric knife,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">On, on the ceaseless music sings,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Restless, intense, serene;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life is the downward stroke; the upward, Life;<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Death but the pause between.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then spake the Questioner: If 't were only this,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Ah, who could face the abyss<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That plunges steep athwart each human breath?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">If the new birth of Death<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meant only more of Life as mortals know it,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What priestly balm, what song of highest poet,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Could heal one sentient soul's immitigable pain?<br /></span> +<span class="i6">All, all were vain!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If, having soared pure spirit at the last,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Free from the impertinence and warp of flesh<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We find half joy, half pain, on every blast;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Are caught again in closer-woven mesh—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Ah! who would care to die<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From out these fields and hills, and this familiar sky;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These firm, sure hands that compass us, this dear humanity?<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 6350]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i5">Again the Answerer saith:—<br /></span> +<span class="i5">O ye of little faith,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Shall then the spirit prove craven,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Death's divine deliverance but give<br /></span> +<span class="i5">A summer rest and haven?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">By all most noble in us, by the light that streams<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Into our waking dreams,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ah, we who know what Life is, let us live!<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Clearer and freer, who shall doubt?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Something of dust and darkness cast forever out;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But Life, still Life, that leads to higher Life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even though the highest be not free from immortal strife.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">The highest! Soul of man, oh be thou bold,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And to the brink of thought draw near, behold!<br /></span> +<span class="i7">Where, on the earth's green sod,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where, where in all the universe of God,<br /></span> +<span class="i7">Hath strife forever ceased?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When hath not some great orb flashed into space<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The terror of its doom? When hath no human face<br /></span> +<span class="i7">Turned earthward in despair,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">For that some horrid sin had stamped its image there?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">If at our passing Life be Life increased,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And we ourselves flame pure unfettered soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like the Eternal Power that made the whole<br /></span> +<span class="i7">And lives in all he made<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From shore of matter to the unknown spirit shore;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">If, sire to son, and tree to limb,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Cycle on countless cycle more and more<br /></span> +<span class="i6">We grow to be like him;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If he lives on, serene and unafraid,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through all his light, his love, his living thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">One with the sufferer, be it soul or star;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If he escape not pain, what beings that are<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can e'er escape while Life leads on and up the unseen way and far?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If he escape not, by whom all was wrought,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Then shall not we,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whate'er of godlike solace still may be,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For in all worlds there is no Life without a pang, and can be naught.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">No Life without a pang! It were not Life,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">If ended were the strife—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Man were not man, nor God were truly God!<br /></span> +<span class="i9">See from the sod<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 6351]</a></span><span class="i2">The lark thrill skyward in an arrow of song:<br /></span> +<span class="i7">Even so from pain and wrong<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Upsprings the exultant spirit, wild and free.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He knows not all the joy of liberty<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who never yet was crushed 'neath heavy woe.<br /></span> +<span class="i8">He doth not know,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Nor can, the bliss of being brave<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Who never hath faced death, nor with unquailing eye<br /></span> +<span class="i7">Hath measured his own grave.<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Courage, and pity, and divinest scorn—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Self-scorn, self-pity, and high courage of the soul;<br /></span> +<span class="i7">The passion for the goal;<br /></span> +<span class="i3">The strength to never yield though all be lost—<br /></span> +<span class="i9">All these are born<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Of endless strife; this is the eternal cost<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Of every lovely thought that through the portal<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Of human minds doth pass with following light.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Blanch not, O trembling mortal!<br /></span> +<span class="i3">But with extreme and terrible delight<br /></span> +<span class="i9">Know thou the truth,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Nor let thy heart be heavy with false ruth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">No passing burden is our earthly sorrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">That shall depart in some mysterious morrow.<br /></span> +<span class="i3">'Tis His one universe where'er we are—<br /></span> +<span class="i3">One changeless law from sun to viewless star.<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Were sorrow evil here, evil it were forever,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Beyond the scope and help of our most keen endeavor<br /></span> +<span class="i9">God doth not dote,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">His everlasting purpose shall not fail.<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Here where our ears are weary with the wail<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And weeping of the sufferers; there where the Pleiads float—<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Here, there, forever, pain most dread and dire<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Doth bring the intensest bliss, the dearest and most sure.<br /></span> +<span class="i3">'Tis not from Life aside, it doth endure<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Deep in the secret heart of all existence.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">It is the inward fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The heavenly urge, and the divine insistence.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Uplift thine eyes, O Questioner, from the sod!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">It were no longer Life,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">If ended were the strife;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Man were not man, God were not truly God.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 6352]</a></span></p> +<h3>"HOW PADEREWSKI PLAYS"</h3> + + +<h4>I</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">If songs were perfume, color, wild desire;<br /></span> +<span class="i10">If poets' words were fire<br /></span> +<span class="i4">That burned to blood in purple-pulsing veins;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">If with a bird-like thrill the moments throbbed to hours;<br /></span> +<span class="i10">If summer's rains<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Turned drop by drop to shy, sweet, maiden flowers;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If God made flowers with light and music in them,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And saddened hearts could win them;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">If loosened petals touched the ground<br /></span> +<span class="i10">With a caressing sound;<br /></span> +<span class="i10">If love's eyes uttered word<br /></span> +<span class="i3">No listening lover e'er before had heard;<br /></span> +<span class="i3">If silent thoughts spake with a bugle's voice;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">If flame passed into song and cried, "Rejoice! Rejoice!"<br /></span> +<span class="i1">If words could picture life's, hope's, heaven's eclipse<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When the last kiss has fallen on dying eyes and lips;<br /></span> +<span class="i10">If all of mortal woe<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Struck on one heart with breathless blow on blow;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If melody were tears, and tears were starry gleams<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That shone in evening's amethystine dreams;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Ah yes, if notes were stars, each star a different hue,<br /></span> +<span class="i10">Trembling to earth in dew;<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Or if the boreal pulsings, rose and white,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Made a majestic music in the night;<br /></span> +<span class="i5">If all the orbs lost in the light of day<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In the deep, silent blue began their harps to play;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And when in frightening skies the lightnings flashed<br /></span> +<span class="i10">And storm-clouds crashed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If every stroke of light and sound were but excess of beauty;<br /></span> +<span class="i5">If human syllables could e'er refashion<br /></span> +<span class="i9">That fierce electric passion;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">If other art could match (as were the poet's duty)<br /></span> +<span class="i3">The grieving, and the rapture, and the thunder<br /></span> +<span class="i9">Of that keen hour of wonder,—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That light as if of heaven, that blackness as of hell,—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">How Paderewski plays then might I dare to tell.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>II</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">How Paderewski plays! And was it he<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or some disbodied spirit which had rushed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From silence into singing; and had crushed<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 6353]</a></span><span class="i2">Into one startled hour a life's felicity,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And highest bliss of knowledge—that all life, grief, wrong,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Turn at the last to beauty and to song!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>THE SONNET</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What is a sonnet? 'Tis the pearly shell<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That murmurs of the far-off murmuring sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A precious jewel carved most curiously;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is a little picture painted well.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What is a sonnet? 'Tis the tear that fell<br /></span> +<span class="i1">From a great poet's hidden ecstasy;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A two-edged sword, a star, a song—ah me!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sometimes a heavy-tolling funeral bell.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">This was the flame that shook with Dante's breath;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The solemn organ whereon Milton played,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the clear glass where Shakespeare's shadow falls:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A sea this is—beware who ventureth!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For like a fiord the narrow floor is laid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mid-ocean deep to the sheer mountain walls.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="AMERICA" id="AMERICA"></a>AMERICA</h3> + +<h4>From 'The Great Remembrance'</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Land that we love! Thou Future of the World!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thou refuge of the noble heart oppressed!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, never be thy shining image hurled<br /></span> +<span class="i1">From its high place in the adoring breast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of him who worships thee with jealous love!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Keep thou thy starry forehead as the dove<br /></span> +<span class="i1">All white, and to the eternal Dawn inclined!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thou art not for thyself, but for mankind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to despair of thee were to despair<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of man, of man's high destiny, of God!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of thee should man despair, the journey trod<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upward, through unknown eons, stair on stair,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">By this our race, with bleeding feet and slow,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Were but the pathway to a darker woe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than yet was visioned by the heavy heart<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of prophet. To despair of thee! Ah no!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For thou thyself art Hope; Hope of the World thou art!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 6354]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="ON_THE_LIFEMASK_OF_ABRAHAM_LINCOLN" id="ON_THE_LIFEMASK_OF_ABRAHAM_LINCOLN"></a>ON THE LIFE-MASK OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This bronze doth keep the very form and mold<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of our great martyr's face. Yes, this is he:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That brow all wisdom, all benignity;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That human, humorous mouth; those cheeks that hold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like some harsh landscape all the summer's gold;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That spirit fit for sorrow, as the sea<br /></span> +<span class="i1">For storms to beat on; the lone agony<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those silent, patient lips too well foretold.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yes, this is he who ruled a world of men<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As might some prophet of the elder day—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Brooding above the tempest and the fray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With deep-eyed thought and more than mortal ken.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A power was his beyond the touch of art<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or armèd strength—his pure and mighty heart.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>"CALL ME NOT DEAD"</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Call me not dead when I, indeed, have gone<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Into the company of the ever-living<br /></span> +<span class="i1">High and most glorious poets! Let thanksgiving<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rather be made. Say:—"He at last hath won<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rest and release, converse supreme and wise,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Music and song and light of immortal faces;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To-day, perhaps, wandering in starry places,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He hath met Keats, and known him by his eyes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To-morrow (who can say?) Shakespeare may pass,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And our lost friend just catch one syllable<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of that three-centuried wit that kept so well;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or Milton; or Dante, looking on the grass<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thinking of Beatrice, and listening still<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To chanted hymns that sound from the heavenly hill."<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>AFTER-SONG</h3> + +<h4>From 'The New Day'</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Through love to light! Oh, wonderful the way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That leads from darkness to the perfect day!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From darkness and from sorrow of the night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To morning that comes singing o'er the sea.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through love to light! Through light, O God, to thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who art the love of love, the eternal light of light!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 6355]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="GIUSEPPE_GIUSTI" id="GIUSEPPE_GIUSTI"></a>GIUSEPPE GIUSTI</h2> + +<h4>(1809-1850)</h4> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 90px;"> +<img src="images/capg.png" width="90" height="90" alt="G" title="G" /> +</div><p class="dropcap">iuseppe Giusti, an Italian satirical poet, was born of an influential +family, May 12th, 1809, in the little village of Monsummano, +which lies between Pistoja and Pescia, and was +in every fibre of his nature a Tuscan. As a child he imbibed the +healthful, sunny atmosphere of that Campagna, and grew up loving +the world and his comrades, but with a dislike of study which convinced +himself and his friends that he was born to no purpose. He +was early destined to the bar, and began his law studies in Pistoja +and Lucca, completing them a number of +years later at Pisa, where he obtained his +degree of doctor.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 170px;"> +<img src="images/giusti.png" width="170" height="228" alt="Giuseppe Giusti" title="Giuseppe Giusti" /> +<span class="caption"><span class="smcap">Giuseppe Giusti</span></span> +</div> + +<p>In 1834 he went to Florence, under pretence +of practicing with the advocate Capoquadri; +but here as elsewhere he spent +his time in the world of gayety, whose fascination +and whose absurdity he seems to +have felt with equal keenness. His dislike +of study found its exception in his love of +Dante, of whom he was a reverent student. +He was himself continually versifying, and +his early romantic lyrics are inspired by +lofty thought. His penetrating humor, however, +and his instinctive sarcasm, whose +expression was never unkind, led him soon to abandon idealism and +to distinguish himself in the field of satire, which has no purer representative +than he. His compositions are short and terse, and are +seldom blemished by personalities. He was wont to say that absurd +persons did not merit even the fame of infamy. He leveled his wit +against the lethargy and immoralities of the times, and revealed them +clear-cut in the light of his own stern principles and patriotism.</p> + +<p>The admiration and confidence which he now began to receive +from the public was to him a matter almost of consternation, wont +as he was to consider himself a good-for-nothing. He confesses +somewhat bashfully however that there was always within him, +half afraid of itself, an instinct of power which led him to say in +his heart, Who knows what I may be with time? His frail constitution +and almost incessant physical suffering account for a natural +indolence against which he constantly inveighs, but above which he +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 6356]</a></span> +was powerless to rise except at vehement intervals. No carelessness, +however, marks his work. He was a tireless reviser, and possessed +the rare power of cutting, polishing, and finishing his work +with exquisite nicety, without robbing it of vigor. His writings exerted +a distinct political and moral influence. His is not alone the +voice of pitiless and mocking irony, but it is that of the humanitarian, +who in overthrow and destruction sees only the first step toward +the creation of something better. When war broke out he laid aside +his pen, saying that this was no time for a poet to pull down, and +that his was not the power to build up. His health forbade his +entering the army, which was a cause of poignant sorrow to him. +His faith in Italy and her people and in the final triumph of unity +remained unshaken and sublime in the midst of every reverse.</p> + +<p>His mastery of the Tuscan dialect and his elegance of idiom won +him membership in the Accademia della Crusca; but his love for +Tuscany was always subservient to his love for Italy. To those who +favored the division of the peninsula, he used to reply that he had +but one fatherland, and that was a unit. He died in Florence, +March 31, 1850, at the home of his devoted friend the Marquis Gino +Capponi. In the teeth of Austrian prohibition, a throng of grateful +and loving citizens followed his body to the church of San Miniato +al Monte, remembering that at a time when freedom of thought +was deemed treason, this man had fearlessly raised the battle-cry +and prepared the way for the insurrection of 1848. Besides his satires, +Giusti has left us a life of the poet Giuseppe Parini, a collection of +Tuscan proverbs, and an unedited essay on the 'Divine Comedy.'</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="LULLABY" id="LULLABY"></a>LULLABY</h3> + +<h4>From 'Gingillino'</h4> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>[The poem of 'Gingillino,' one of Giusti's finest satires, is full of personal +hits, greatly enjoyed by the author's countrymen. The 'Lullaby' is sung by +a number of personified Vices round the cradle of the infant Gingillino, who, +having come into the world naked and possessed of nothing, is admonished +how to behave if he would go out of it well dressed and rich. A few verses +only are given out of the many. The whole poem was one of the most popular +of all Giusti's satires.]</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Cry not, dear baby,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of nothing possessed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But if thou wouldst, dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Expire well dressed....<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let nothing vex thee,—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Love's silly story,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 6357]</a></span><span class="i0">Ghosts of grand festivals<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Spectres of glory;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let naught annoy thee:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The burdens of fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The manifold perils<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That wait on a name.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Content thyself, baby,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With learning to read:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Don't be vainglorious;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That's all thou canst need.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All promptings of genius<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Confine in thy breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If thou wouldst, baby,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Expire well dressed....<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let not God nor Devil<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Concern thy poor wits,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tell no more truth<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Than politeness permits.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With thy soul and thy body,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Still worship the Real;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor ever attempt<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To pursue the Ideal.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As for thy scruples,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Let them be suppressed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If thou wouldst, baby,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Expire well dressed.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="trans">Translated for 'A Library of the World's Best Literature.'</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="THE_STEAM-GUILLOTINE" id="THE_STEAM-GUILLOTINE"></a>THE STEAM-GUILLOTINE</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>[The monarch satirized in this poem was Francesco IV., Duke of Modena, +a petty Nero, who executed not a few of the Italian patriots of 1831.]</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A most wonderful steam-machine,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">One time set up in China-land,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Outdid the insatiate guillotine,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">For in three hours, you understand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It cut off a hundred thousand heads<br /></span> +<span class="i6">In a row, like hospital beds.<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 6358]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This innovation stirred a breeze,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And some of the bonzes even thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their barbarous country by degrees<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To civilization might be brought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leaving Europeans, with their schools,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Looking like fools.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Emperor was an honest man—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A little stiff, and dull of pate;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like other asses, hard and slow.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">He loved his subjects and the State,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And patronized all clever men<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Within his ken.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His people did not like to pay<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Their taxes and their other dues,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They cheated the revenue, sad to say:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">So their good ruler thought he'd choose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the best argument he'd seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">This sweet machine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The thing's achievements were so great,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">They gained a pension for the man,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The executioner of State,—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Who got a patent for his plan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Besides becoming a Mandarin<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Of great Pekin.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A courtier cried: "Good guillotine!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Let's up and christen it, I say!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Ah, why," cries to his counselor keen<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A Nero of our present day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Why was not born within <i>my</i> State<br /></span> +<span class="i6">A man so great?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="trans">Translated for 'A Library of the World's Best Literature.'</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 6359]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 70%;"> +<a name="GLADSTONE" id="GLADSTONE"></a> +<span class="caption">WILLIAM E. GLADSTONE.</span> +<img src="images/gladstone.jpg" width="100%" alt="WILLIAM E. GLADSTONE." title="WILLIAM E. GLADSTONE." /> +</div> + +<h2><a name="WILLIAM_EWART_GLADSTONE" id="WILLIAM_EWART_GLADSTONE"></a>WILLIAM EWART GLADSTONE</h2> + +<h4>(1809-)</h4> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 90px;"> +<img src="images/capi.png" width="90" height="90" alt="I" title="I" /> +</div><p class="dropcap">n view of his distinguished career, it is interesting to know +that it is a part of Mr. Gladstone's unresting ambition to +take a place among the literary men of the time, and to +guide the thoughts of his countrymen in literary as well as in political, +social, and economic subjects. Mr. Gladstone's preparation to +become a man of letters was extensive. Born in Liverpool December +29th, 1809, he was sent to Eton and afterwards to Oxford, where he +took the highest honors, and was the most remarkable graduate of +his generation. His fellow students carried away a vivid recollection +of his <i>viva voce</i> examination for his degree: the tall figure, the flashing +eye, the mobile countenance, in the midst of the crowd who +pressed to hear him, while the examiners plied him with questions +till, tested in some difficult point in theology, the candidate exclaimed, +"Not yet, if you please" and began to pour forth a fresh +store of learning and argument.</p> + +<p>From the university Mr. Gladstone carried away two passions—the +one for Greek literature, especially Greek poetry, the other for +Christian theology. The Oxford that formed these tastes was intensely +conservative in politics, representing the aristocratic system +of English society and the exclusiveness of the Established Church, +whose creed was that of the fourth century. Ecclesiasticism is not +friendly to literature; but how far Oxford's most loyal son was +permeated by ecclesiasticism is a matter of opinion. Fortunately, personality +is stronger than dogma, and ideas than literary form; and +Mr. Gladstone, than whom few men outside the profession of letters +have written more, is always sure of an intelligent hearing. His discussion +of a subject seems to invest it with some of his own marvelous +vitality; and when he selects a book for review, he is said to +make the fortune of both publisher and author, if only the title be +used as a crotchet to hang his sermon on.</p> + +<p>And this not merely because curiosity is excited concerning the +opinion of the greatest living Englishman (for notwithstanding his +political vacillations, his views on inward and higher subjects have +little changed since his Oxford days, and may easily be prognosticated), +but on account of the subtlety and fertility of his mind and +the adroitness of his argument. Plunging into the heart of the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 6360]</a></span> +subject, he is at the same time working round it, holding it up +for inspection in one light and then in another, reasoning from this +premise and that; while the string of elucidations and explanations +grows longer and longer, and the atmosphere of complexity thickens. +It was out of such an atmosphere that a barrister advised his +client, a bigamist, to get Mr. Gladstone to explain away one of his +wives.</p> + +<p>When Mr. Gladstone made his debut as an author, he locked horns +with Macaulay in the characteristic paper 'Church and State' (1837). +He published his 'Studies in Homer and the Homeric Age' in 1858, +'Juventus Mundi' in 1869, 'Homeric Synchronism' in 1857. In 1879 +most of his essays, political, social, economic, religious, and literary, +written between 1843 and 1879, were collected in seven volumes, and +appeared under the title of 'Gleanings of Past Years.' He has published +a very great number of smaller writings not reprinted.</p> + +<p>From that time to the present, neither his industry nor his energy +has abated; but he is probably at his best in the several remarkable +essays on Blanco White, Bishop Patterson, Tennyson, Leopardi, and +the position of the Church of England. The reader spoiled for the +Scotch quality of weight by the "light touch" which is the graceful +weapon of the age, wonders, when reading these essays, that Mr. +Gladstone has not more assiduously cultivated the instinct of style,—sentence-making. +Milton himself has not a higher conception of the +business of literature; and when discussing these congenial themes, +Mr. Gladstone's enthusiasm does not degenerate into vehemence, nor +does he descend from the high moral plane from which he views the +world.</p> + +<p>It is the province of the specialist to appraise Mr. Gladstone's +Homeric writings; but even the specialist will not, perhaps, forbear +to quote the axiom of the pugilist in the Iliad concerning the fate of +him who would be skillful in all arts. No man is less a Greek in +temperament, but no man cherishes deeper admiration for the Greek +genius, and nowhere else is a more vivid picture of the life and politics +of the heroic age held up to the unlearned. While the critic +may question technical accuracy, or plausible structures built on +insufficient data, the laity will remember how earnestly Mr. Gladstone +insists that Homer is his own best interpreter, and that the student +of the Iliad must go to the Greek text and not elsewhere for accurate +knowledge.</p> + +<p>But Greek literature is only one of Mr. Gladstone's two passions, +and not the paramount one. That he would have been a great theologian +had he been other than Mr. Gladstone, is generally admitted. +And it is interesting to note that while he glories in the combats of +the heroes of Hellas, his enthusiasm is as quickly kindled by the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 6361]</a></span> +humilities of the early Church. He recognizes the prophetic quality +of Homer, but he bows before the sublimer genius of an Isaiah, and +sees in the lives and writings of the early Fathers the perfect bloom +of human genius and character.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="MACAULAY" id="MACAULAY"></a>MACAULAY</h3> + +<h4>From 'Gleanings of Past Years'</h4> + +<p>Lord Macaulay lived a life of no more than fifty-nine years +and three months. But it was an extraordinarily full life, +of sustained exertion; a high table-land, without depressions. +If in its outer aspect there be anything wearisome, it is only the +wearisomeness of reiterated splendors, and of success so uniform +as to be almost monotonous. He speaks of himself as idle; but +his idleness was more active, and carried with it hour by hour a +greater expenditure of brain power, than what most men regard +as their serious employments. He might well have been, in his +mental career, the spoiled child of fortune; for all he tried succeeded, +all he touched turned into gems and gold. In a happy +childhood he evinced extreme precocity. His academical career +gave sufficient, though not redundant, promise of after celebrity. +The new Golden Age he imparted to the Edinburgh Review, and +his first and most important, if not best, Parliamentary speeches +in the grand crisis of the first Reform Bill, achieved for him, +years before he had reached the middle point of life, what may +justly be termed an immense distinction.</p> + +<p>For a century and more, perhaps no man in this country, +with the exceptions of Mr. Pitt and of Lord Byron, had attained +at thirty-two the fame of Macaulay. His Parliamentary success +and his literary eminence were each of them enough, as they +stood at this date, to intoxicate any brain and heart of a meaner +order. But to these was added, in his case, an amount and +quality of social attentions such as invariably partake of adulation +and idolatry, and as perhaps the high circles of London +never before or since have lavished on a man whose claims lay +only in himself, and not in his descent, his rank, or his possessions....</p> + +<p>One of the very first things that must strike the observer of +this man is, that he was very unlike to any other man. And +yet this unlikeness, this monopoly of the model in which he +was made, did not spring from violent or eccentric features of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 6362]</a></span> +originality, for eccentricity he had none whatever, but from the +peculiar mode in which the ingredients were put together to +make up the composition. In one sense, beyond doubt, such +powers as his famous memory, his rare power of illustration, his +command of language, separated him broadly from others: but +gifts like these do not make the man; and we now for the first +time know that he possessed, in a far larger sense, the stamp of +a real and strong individuality. The most splendid and complete +assemblage of intellectual endowments does not of itself suffice +to create an interest of the kind that is, and will be, now felt in +Macaulay. It is from ethical gifts alone that such an interest +can spring.</p> + +<p>These existed in him not only in abundance, but in forms +distant from and even contrasted with the fashion of his intellectual +faculties, and in conjunctions which come near to paradox. +Behind the mask of splendor lay a singular simplicity; behind a +literary severity which sometimes approached to vengeance, an +extreme tenderness; behind a rigid repudiation of the sentimental, +a sensibility at all times quick, and in the latest times +almost threatening to sap, though never sapping, his manhood. +He who as speaker and writer seemed above all others to represent +the age and the world, had the real centre of his being in +the simplest domestic tastes and joys. He for whom the mysteries +of human life, thought, and destiny appear to have neither +charm nor terror, and whose writings seem audibly to boast in +every page of being bounded by the visible horizon of the practical +and work-day sphere, yet in his virtues and in the combination +of them; in his freshness, bounty, bravery; in his unshrinking +devotion both to causes and to persons; and most of all, perhaps, +in the thoroughly inborn and spontaneous character of all +these gifts,—really recalls the age of chivalry and the lineaments +of the ideal. The peculiarity, the <i>differentia</i> (so to speak) of +Macaulay seems to us to lie in this: that while as we frankly +think, there is much to question—nay, much here and there to +regret or even censure—in his writings, the excess, or defect, or +whatever it may be, is never really ethical, but is in all cases +due to something in the structure and habits of his intellect. +And again, it is pretty plain that the faults of that intellect were +immediately associated with its excellences: it was in some sense, +to use the language of his own Milton, "dark with excessive +bright."...</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 6363]</a></span></p> +<p>His moderation in luxuries and pleasures is the more notable +and praiseworthy because he was a man who, with extreme +healthiness of faculty, enjoyed keenly what he enjoyed at all. +Take in proof the following hearty notice of a dinner <i>a quattr' occhi</i> to his friend: "Ellis came to dinner at seven. I gave him +a lobster curry, woodcock, and macaroni. I think that I will +note dinners, as honest Pepys did."</p> + +<p>His love of books was intense, and was curiously developed. +In a walk he would devour a play or a volume. Once, indeed, +his performance embraced no less than fourteen Books of the +Odyssey. "His way of life," says Mr. Trevelyan, "would have +been deemed solitary by others; but it was not solitary to him." +This development blossomed into a peculiar specialism. Henderson's +'Iceland' was "a favorite breakfast-book" with him. "Some +books which I would never dream of opening at dinner please +me at breakfast, and <i>vice versá</i>!" There is more subtlety in this +distinction than could easily be found in any passage of his writings. +But how quietly both meals are handed over to the dominion +of the master propensity! This devotion, however, was not +without its drawbacks. Thought, apart from books and from +composition, perhaps he disliked; certainly he eschewed. Crossing +that evil-minded sea the Irish Channel at night in rough +weather, he is disabled from reading; he wraps himself in a pea-jacket +and sits upon the deck. What is his employment? He +cannot sleep, or does not. What an opportunity for moving +onward in the processes of thought, which ought to weigh on the +historian! The wild yet soothing music of the waves would have +helped him to watch the verging this way or that of the judicial +scales, or to dive into the problems of human life and action +which history continually is called upon to sound. No, he cared +for none of this. He set about the marvelous feat of going +over 'Paradise Lost' from memory, when he found he could +still repeat half of it. In a word, he was always conversing, or +recollecting, or reading, or composing; but reflecting never.</p> + +<p>The laboriousness of Macaulay as an author demands our +gratitude; all the more because his natural speech was in sentences +of set and ordered structure, well-nigh ready for the press. +It is delightful to find that the most successful prose writer +of the day was also the most painstaking. Here is indeed a literary +conscience. The very same gratification may be expressed +with reference to our most successful poet, Mr. Tennyson. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 6364]</a></span> +Great is the praise due to the poet; still greater, from the +nature of the case, that share which falls to the lot of Macaulay. +For a poet's diligence is, all along, a honeyed work. He is ever +traveling in flowery meads. Macaulay, on the other hand, unshrinkingly +went through an immense mass of inquiry, which even +he sometimes felt to be irksome, and which to most men would +have been intolerable. He was perpetually picking the grain of +corn out of the bushel of chaff. He freely chose to undergo the +dust and heat and strain of battle, before he would challenge from +the public the crown of victory. And in every way it was +remarkable that he should maintain his lofty standard of conception +and performance. Mediocrity is now, as formerly, dangerous, +commonly fatal, to the poet; but among even the successful writers +of prose, those who rise sensibly above it are the very rarest +exceptions. The tests of excellence in prose are as much less +palpable as the public appetite is less fastidious. Moreover, we +are moving downward in this respect. The proportion of middling +to good writing constantly and rapidly increases. With the +average of performance, the standard of judgment progressively +declines. The inexorable conscientiousness of Macaulay, his determination +to put out nothing from his hand which his hand was +still capable of improving, was a perfect godsend to the best +hopes of our slipshod generation.</p> + +<p>It was naturally consequent upon this habit of treating composition +in the spirit of art, that he should extend to the body +of his books much of the regard and care which he so profusely +bestowed upon their soul. We have accordingly had in him, at +the time when the need was greatest, a most vigilant guardian +of the language. We seem to detect rare and slight evidences +of carelessness in his Journal: of which we can only say that in +a production of the moment, written for himself alone, we are +surprised that they are not more numerous and considerable. In +general society, carelessness of usage is almost universal, and it is +exceedingly difficult for an individual, however vigilant, to avoid +catching some of the trashy or faulty usages which are continually +in his ear. But in his published works his grammar, his +orthography, nay, his punctuation (too often surrendered to the +printer), are faultless. On these questions, and on the lawfulness +or unlawfulness of a word, he may even be called an authority +without appeal; and we cannot doubt that we owe it to +his works, and to their boundless circulation, that we have not in +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 6365]</a></span> +this age witnessed a more rapid corruption and degeneration of +the language.</p> + +<p>To the literary success of Macaulay it would be difficult to +find a parallel in the history of recent authorship. For this and +probably for all future centuries, we are to regard the public as +the patron of literary men; and as a patron abler than any that +went before to heap both fame and fortune on its favorites. Setting +aside works of which the primary purpose was entertainment, +Tennyson alone among the writers of our age, in point of +public favor and of emolument following upon it, comes near to +Macaulay. But Tennyson was laboriously cultivating his gifts +for many years before he acquired a position in the eye of the +nation. Macaulay, fresh from college in 1825, astonished the +world by his brilliant and most imposing essay on Milton. Full-orbed, +he was seen above the horizon; and full-orbed after thirty-five +years of constantly emitted splendor, he sank beneath it.</p> + +<p>His gains from literature were extraordinary. The check for +£20,000 is known to all. But his accumulation was reduced by +his bounty; and his profits would, it is evident, have been far +larger still had he dealt with the products of his mind on the +principles of economic science (which however he heartily professed), +and sold his wares in the dearest market, as he undoubtedly +acquired them in the cheapest. No one can measure the +elevation of Macaulay's character above the mercenary level, +without bearing in mind that for ten years after 1825 he was a +poor and a contented man, though ministering to the wants of a +father and a family reduced in circumstances; though in the +blaze of literary and political success; and though he must have +been conscious from the first of the possession of a gift which +by a less congenial and more compulsory use would have rapidly +led him to opulence. Yet of the comforts and advantages, both +social and physical, from which he thus forbore, it is so plain +that he at all times formed no misanthropic or ascetic, but on +the contrary a very liberal and genial estimate. It is truly touching +to find that never, except as a minister, until 1851, when he +had already lived fifty years of his fifty-nine, did this favorite of +fortune, this idol of society, allow himself the luxury of a carriage.</p> + +<p>It has been observed that neither in art nor letters did Macaulay +display that faculty of the higher criticism which depends +upon certain refined perceptions and the power of subtle analysis. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 6366]</a></span> +His analysis was always rough, hasty, and sweeping, and his +perceptions robust. By these properties it was that he was so +eminently [Greek: phortikos], not in the vulgar sense of an appeal to spurious +sentiment, but as one bearing his reader along by violence, +as the River Scamander tried to bear Achilles. Yet he was +never pretentious; and he said frankly of himself that a criticism +like that of Lessing in his 'Laocoön,' or of Goethe on 'Hamlet,' +filled him with wonder and despair. His intense devotion to the +great work of Dante is not perhaps in keeping with the general +tenor of his tastes and attachments, but is in itself a circumstance +of much interest.</p> + +<p>We remember however at least one observation of Macaulay's +in regard to art, which is worth preserving. He observed that +the mixture of gold with ivory in great works of ancient art—for +example, in the Jupiter of Phidias—was probably a condescension +to the tastes of the people who were to be the worshipers +of the statue; and he noticed that in Christian times it has +most rarely happened that productions great in art have also +been the objects of warm popular veneration....</p> + +<p>It has been felt and pointed out in many quarters that Macaulay +as a writer was the child, and became the type, of his +country and his age. As fifty years ago the inscription "Bath" +used to be carried on our letter-paper, so the word "English" is, +as it were, in the water-mark of every leaf of Macaulay's writing. +His country was not the Empire, nor was it the United +Kingdom. It was not even Great Britain. Though he was +descended in the higher, that is the paternal, half from Scottish +ancestry, and was linked specially with that country through the +signal virtues, the victorious labors, and the considerable reputation +of his father Zachary,—his country was England. On this +little spot he concentrated a force of admiration and of worship +which might have covered all the world. But as in space, so in +time, it was limited. It was the England of his own age.</p> + +<p>The higher energies of his life were as completely summed +up in the present as those of Walter Scott were projected +upon the past. He would not have filled an Abbotsford with +armor and relics of the Middle Ages. He judges the men and +institutions and events of other times by the instruments and +measures of the present. The characters whom he admires are +those who would have conformed to the type that was before his +eyes: who would have moved with effect in the court, the camp, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 6367]</a></span> +the senate, the drawing-room of to-day. He contemplates the +past with no <i>desiderium</i>, no regretful longing, no sense of things +admirable which are also lost and irrecoverable. Upon this limitation +of his retrospects it follows in natural sequence that of +the future he has no glowing anticipations, and even the present +he is not apt to contemplate on its mysterious and ideal side. +As in respect to his personal capacity of loving, so in regard +to the corresponding literary power. The faculty was singularly +intense, and yet it was spent within a narrow circle. There is +a marked sign of this narrowness, in his disinclination even to +look at the works of contemporaries whose tone or manner he +disliked.</p> + +<p>It appears that this dislike, and the ignorance consequent +upon it, applied to the works of Carlyle. Now, we may have +much or little faith in Carlyle as a philosopher or as a historian. +Half-lights and half-truths may be the utmost which, in these +departments, his works will be found to yield. But the total +want of sympathy is the more noteworthy, because the resemblances, +though partial, are both numerous and substantial between +these two remarkable men and powerful writers, as well +in their strength as in their weakness. Both are honest; and +both, notwithstanding honesty, are partisans. Each is vastly, +though diversely, powerful in expression; and each is more powerful +in expression than in thought. Both are, though variously, +poets using the vehicle of prose. Both have the power of portraitures, +extraordinary for vividness and strength. For comprehensive +disquisition, for balanced and impartial judgments, the +world will probably resort to neither; and if Carlyle gains on the +comparison in his strong sense of the inward and the ideal, he +loses in the absolute and violent character of his one-sidedness. +Without doubt, Carlyle's licentious though striking peculiarities +of style have been of a nature allowably to repel, so far as they +go, one who was so rigid as Macaulay in his literary orthodoxy, +and who so highly appreciated, and with such expenditure of +labor, all that relates to the exterior or body of a book. Still, +if there be resemblances so strong, the want of appreciation, +which has possibly been reciprocal, seems to be partly of that +nature which Aristotle would have explained by his favorite +proverb, [Greek: keramens keramei].<a name="FNanchor_A_4" id="FNanchor_A_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_4" class="fnanchor">[D]</a> The discrepancy is like the discrepancy +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 6368]</a></span> +of colors that are too near. Carlyle is at least a great fact in +the literature of his time, and has contributed largely,—in some +respects too largely,—toward forming its characteristic habits of +thought. But on these very grounds he should not have been +excluded from the horizon of a mind like Macaulay's, with all its +large and varied and most active interests....</p> + +<p>There have been other men of our own generation, though +very few, who if they have not equaled have approached Macaulay +in power of memory, and who have certainly exceeded him +in the unfailing accuracy of their recollections; and yet not in +accuracy as to dates or names or quotations, or other matters of +hard fact, when the question was one simply between ay and +no. In these he may have been without a rival. In a list of +kings, or popes, or senior wranglers, or prime ministers, or +battles, or palaces, or as to the houses in Pall Mall or about +Leicester Square, he might be followed with implicit confidence. +But a large and important class of human recollections are not +of this order: recollections for example of characters, of feelings, +of opinions; of the intrinsic nature, details, and bearings of occurrences. +And here it was that Macaulay's wealth "was unto +him an occasion of falling." And that in two ways. First, the +possessor of such a vehicle as his memory could not but have +something of an overweening confidence in what it told him; and +quite apart from any tendency to be vain or overbearing, he could +hardly enjoy the benefits of that caution which arises from self-interest, +and the sad experience of frequent falls. But what is +more, the possessor of so powerful a fancy could not but illuminate +with the colors it supplied, the matters which he gathered +into his great magazine, wherever the definiteness of their outline +was not so rigid as to defy or disarm the action of the intruding +and falsifying faculty. Imagination could not alter the +date of the battle of Marathon, of the Council of Nice, or the +crowning of Pepin; but it might seriously or even fundamentally +disturb the balance of light and dark in his account of the opinions +of Milton or of Laud, or his estimate of the effects of the +Protectorate or the Restoration, or of the character and even the +adulteries of William III. He could detect justly this want of +dry light in others; he probably suspected it in himself; but it +was hardly possible for him to be enough upon his guard against +the distracting action of a faculty at once so vigorous, so crafty, +and so pleasurable in its intense activity.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 6369]</a></span></p> + +<p>Hence arose, it seems reasonable to believe, that charge of +partisanship against Macaulay as a historian, on which much has +been and probably much more will be said. He may not have +possessed that scrupulously tender sense of obligation, that nice +tact of exact justice, which is among the very rarest as well as +the most precious of human virtues. But there never was a +writer less capable of intentional unfairness. This during his lifetime +was the belief of his friends, but was hardly admitted by +opponents. His biographer has really lifted the question out of +the range of controversy. He wrote for truth, but of course for +truth such as he saw it; and his sight was colored from within. +This color, once attached, was what in manufacture is called a +mordant; it was a fast color: he could not distinguish between +what his mind had received and what his mind had imparted. +Hence, when he was wrong, he could not see that he was wrong; +and of those calamities which are due to the intellect only, and +not the heart, there can hardly be a greater....</p> + +<p>However true it may be that Macaulay was a far more consummate +workman in the manner than in the matter of his +works, we do not doubt that the works contain, in multitudes, +passages of high emotion and ennobling sentiment, just awards of +praise and blame, and solid expositions of principle, social, moral, +and constitutional. They are pervaded by a generous love of +liberty; and their atmosphere is pure and bracing, their general +aim and basis morally sound. Of the qualifications of this eulogy +we have spoken, and have yet to speak. But we can speak of +the style of the works with little qualification. We do not indeed +venture to assert that his style ought to be imitated. Yet this +is not because it was vicious, but because it was individual and +incommunicable. It was one of those gifts of which, when it +had been conferred, Nature broke the mold. That it is the head +of all literary styles we do not allege; but it is different from +them all, and perhaps more different from them all than they +are usually different from one another. We speak only of natural +styles, of styles where the manner waits upon the matter, and not +where an artificial structure has been reared either to hide or to +make up for poverty of substance.</p> + +<p>It is paramount in the union of ease in movement with perspicuity +of matter, of both with real splendor, and of all with +immense rapidity and striking force. From any other pen, such +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 6370]</a></span> +masses of ornament would be tawdry; with him they are only +rich. As a model of art concealing art, the finest cabinet pictures +of Holland are almost his only rivals. Like Pascal, he makes the +heaviest subject light; like Burke, he embellishes the barrenest. +When he walks over arid plains, the springs of milk and honey, +as in a march of Bacchus, seem to rise beneath his tread. The +repast he serves is always sumptuous, but it seems to create an +appetite proportioned to its abundance; for who has ever heard +of the reader that was cloyed with Macaulay? In none, perhaps, +of our prose writers are lessons such as he gives of truth and +beauty, of virtue and of freedom, so vividly associated with +delight. Could some magician but do for the career of life what +he has done for the arm-chair and the study, what a change +would pass on the face (at least) of the world we live in, what +an accession of recruits would there be to the professing followers +of virtue!...</p> + +<p>The truth is that Macaulay was not only accustomed, like +many more of us, to go out hobby-riding, but from the portentous +vigor of the animal he mounted was liable more than most +of us to be run away with. His merit is that he could keep his +seat in the wildest steeple-chase; but as the object in view is +arbitrarily chosen, so it is reached by cutting up the fields, spoiling +the crops, and spoiling or breaking down the fences needful +to secure for labor its profit, and to man at large the full enjoyment +of the fruits of the earth. Such is the overpowering glow +of color, such the fascination of the grouping in the first sketches +which he draws, that when he has grown hot upon his work he +seems to lose all sense of the restraints of fact and the laws of +moderation; he vents the strangest paradoxes, sets up the most +violent caricatures, and handles the false weight and measure as +effectively as if he did it knowingly. A man so able and so +upright is never indeed wholly wrong. He never for a moment +consciously pursues anything but truth. But truth depends, +above all, on proportion and relation. The preterhuman vividness +with which Macaulay sees his object, absolutely casts a +shadow upon what lies around; he loses his perspective; and +imagination, impelled headlong by the strong consciousness of +honesty in purpose, achieves the work of fraud. All things for +him stand in violent contrast to one another. For the shadows, +the gradations, the middle and transition touches, which make up +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 6371]</a></span> +the bulk of human life, character, and action, he has neither eye +nor taste. They are not taken account of in his practice, and +they at length die away from the ranges of his vision.</p> + +<p>In Macaulay all history is scenic; and philosophy he scarcely +seems to touch, except on the outer side, where it opens into +action. Not only does he habitually present facts in forms of +beauty, but the fashioning of the form predominates over, and is +injurious to, the absolute and balanced presentation of the subject. +Macaulay was a master in execution, rather than in what +painting or music terms expression. He did not fetch from the +depths, nor soar to the heights; but his power upon the surface +was rare and marvelous, and it is upon the surface that an ordinary +life is passed and that its imagery is found. He mingled, +then, like Homer, the functions of the poet and the chronicler: +but what Homer did was due to his time; what Macaulay did, +to his temperament.</p> + +<p>The 'History' of Macaulay, whatever else it may be, is the +work not of a journeyman but of a great artist, and a great +artist who lavishly bestowed upon it all his powers. Such a work, +once committed to the press, can hardly die. It is not because +it has been translated into a crowd of languages, nor because it +has been sold in hundreds of thousands, that we believe it will +live; but because, however open it may be to criticism, it has in +it the character of a true and very high work of art....</p> + +<p>Whether he will subsist as a standard and supreme authority +is another question. Wherever and whenever read, he will be +read with fascination, with delight, with wonder. And with copious +instruction too; but also with copious reserve, with questioning +scrutiny, with liberty to reject and with much exercise of +that liberty. The contemporary mind may in rare cases be taken +by storm; but posterity, never. The tribunal of the present is +accessible to influence; that of the future is incorrupt. The coming +generations will not give Macaulay up; but they will probably +attach much less value than we have done to his <i>ipse dixit</i>. +They will hardly accept from him his net solutions of literary, +and still less of historic problems. Yet they will obtain, from his +marked and telling points of view, great aid in solving them. +We sometimes fancy that ere long there will be editions of his +works in which his readers may be saved from pitfalls by brief, +respectful, and judicious commentary; and that his great achievements +may be at once commemorated and corrected by men of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 6372]</a></span> +slower pace, of drier light, and of more tranquil, broad-set, and +comprehensive judgment. For his works are in many respects +among the prodigies of literature; in some, they have never been +surpassed. As lights that have shone through the whole universe +of letters, they have made their title to a place in the solid firmament +of fame. But the tree is greater and better than its fruit; +and greater and better yet than the works themselves are the +lofty aims and conceptions, the large heart, the independent, manful +mind, the pure and noble career, which in this Biography +have disclosed to us the true figure of the man who wrote them.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 6373]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="EDWIN_LAWRENCE_GODKIN" id="EDWIN_LAWRENCE_GODKIN"></a>EDWIN LAWRENCE GODKIN</h2> + +<h4>(1831-)</h4> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 90px;"> +<img src="images/capa.png" width="90" height="90" alt="A" title="A" /> +</div><p class="dropcap">mong the men in the United States who through the agency +of the press have molded intelligent public opinion, Edwin +Lawrence Godkin deserves an honorable place. In the +columns of the New York Nation and the New York Evening Post, +he has for a generation given editorial utterance to his views upon +economic, civic, political, and international questions, this work being +supplemented by occasional incisive and scholarly articles in the best +periodicals. His clientèle has been drawn mainly from that powerful +minority which is made up of the educated, +thoughtful men and women of the country. +To this high function Mr. Godkin has contributed +exceptional gifts and qualifications; +and that in its exercise he has been a force +for good, is beyond dispute.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 170px;"> +<img src="images/godkin.png" width="170" height="212" alt="Edwin L. Godkin" title="Edwin L. Godkin" /> +<span class="caption"><span class="smcap">Edwin L. Godkin</span></span> +</div> + +<p>Born in Moyne, Ireland, in 1831, he was +educated at Queen's College, Belfast. Then +came the more practical education derived +from a familiarity with men and things, for +in early manhood he began newspaper +work as war correspondent, in Turkey and +the Crimea, of the London Daily News. +As correspondent of this paper he came to +the United States and settled here, being +admitted to the New York bar in 1858. But journalism was to be +his life work; and in 1865 he became the editor of The Nation, a +weekly,—succeeding the Round Table, but at once taking a much +more important place as a journal of political and literary discussion,—and +the next year its proprietor. In 1881 he also became one +of the owners and the controlling editor of the New York Evening +Post, a daily, and his contributions since then have appeared in both +papers, which bear to each other the relation of a daily and weekly +edition. Thus he has been in active journalistic service for more +than thirty years.</p> + +<p>From this slight biographical outline it may be seen that Mr. +Godkin brought to the pursuit of his profession and to the study +of American institutions some valuable qualifications. A college-bred +man of wide experience, an adoptive American able to judge by the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 6374]</a></span> +comparative method, a careful student of the philosophy of government, +from Aristotle to Sir Henry Maine, his views combine in an +unusual degree the practical and the theoretical. No doubt he has +in his writings what to some will seem the defect of his quality. +There is in him a certain haughtiness of temper, and what seems +like impatient contempt for the opponent in argument, which, conjoined +with a notable power of invective and satire in dealing with +what he deems to be fallacious, are likely to arouse opposition. +Hence the feeling in some quarters that Mr. Godkin is not at heart +an American, but a captious critic, with sympathies ill suited to a +democratic government.</p> + +<p>This opinion is not justified by a fair examination of his writings. +He has on the contrary and in the true sense proved himself a true +American. He has spoken wise words upon many of the social and +political problems of our day. He has defended democracy from the +charge of failure, pointing out that here in the United States social +defects, wrongly ascribed by foreign critics to the form of government, +have been incidental to the settling of a vast new country. +He has stated with clearness and cogency the inadvisability of allowing +the government paternal power in finance and tariff legislation. +He has preached the difference between cheap jingoism or political +partisanship, and the enlightened Americanism which puts its finger +upon weak points, criticizing in order to correct and purify. Mr. +Godkin, in this, has been a consistent worker in a cause of which +Lowell was a noble prophet. And in regard of literary excellence, +his editorial writing is often a model of lucid, sinewy English style; +while his more deliberated essays have been admirable for calm dignity, +polish, and organic exposition, with an air of good breeding +over it all. The influence of such a man, both as writer and thinker, +especially in a land like the United States, has been most salutary.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="THE_DUTY_OF_CRITICISM_IN_A_DEMOCRACY" id="THE_DUTY_OF_CRITICISM_IN_A_DEMOCRACY"></a>THE DUTY OF CRITICISM IN A DEMOCRACY</h3> + +<h4>From 'Problems of Modern Democracy.' Copyright 1896, by Charles Scribner's +Sons, New York</h4> + +<p>No intelligent man can or ought to ignore the part which +hope of better things plays in our present social system. It +has largely, among the working classes, taken the place of +religious belief. They have brought their heaven down to earth, +and are literally looking forward to a sort of New Jerusalem, in +which all comforts and many of the luxuries of life will be +within easy reach of all. The great success of Utopian works<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 6375]</a></span> +like Bellamy's shows the hold which these ideas have taken of +the popular mind. The world has to have a religion of some +kind, and the hope of better food and clothing, more leisure, and +a greater variety of amusements, has become the religion of the +working classes. Hope makes them peaceful, industrious, and +resigned under present suffering. A Frenchman saw a ragged +pauper spend his last few cents on a lottery ticket, and asked +him how he could commit such a folly. "In order to have something +to hope for," he said. And from this point of view the +outlay was undoubtedly excusable. It is literally hope which +makes the world go round, and one of the hardest things an +educated man who opens his mouth about public affairs has to +do, is to say one word or anything to dampen or destroy it. Yet +his highest duty is to speak the truth.</p> + +<p>Luckily, there is one truth which can always be spoken without +offense, and that is that on the whole the race advances +through the increase of intelligence and the improvement of character, +and has not advanced in any other way. The great amelioration +in the condition of the working classes in Europe within +this century, including the increasing power of the trades-unions, +is the result not of any increase of benevolence in the upper +classes, but of the growth of knowledge and self-reliance and +foresight among the working classes themselves. The changes in +legislation which have improved their condition are changes which +they have demanded. When a workingman becomes a capitalist, +and raises himself in any way above his early condition, it is +rarely the result of miracle or accident. It is due to his superior +intelligence and thrift. Nothing, on the whole, can be more +delusive than official and other inquiries into the labor problem +through commissions and legislative committees. They all assume +that there is some secret in the relations of labor and capital +which can be found out by taking testimony. But they never +find anything out. Their reports during the last fifty years would +make a small library, but they never tell us anything new. They +are meant to pacify and amuse the laborer, and they do so; but +to their constant failure to do anything more we owe some of the +Socialist movement. The Socialists believe this failure due to +want of will, and that Karl Marx has discovered the great truth +of the situation, which is, that labor is entitled to the whole +product. The great law which Nature seems to have prescribed +for the government of the world, and the only law of human<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 6376]</a></span> +society which we are able to extract from history, is that the +more intelligent and thoughtful of the race shall inherit the earth +and have the best time, and that all others shall find life on the +whole dull and unprofitable. Socialism is an attempt to contravene +this law and insure a good time to everybody, independently +of character and talents; but Nature will see that she is not +frustrated or brought to naught, and I do not think educated +men should ever cease to call attention to this fact; that is, ever +cease to preach hopefulness, not to everybody, but to good people. +This is no bar to benevolence to bad people or any people; but +our first duty is loyalty to the great qualities of our kind, to the +great human virtues which raise the civilized man above the +savage.</p> + +<p>There is probably no government in the world to-day as stable +as that of the United States. The chief advantage of democratic +government is, in a country like this, the enormous force it can +command on an emergency. By "emergency" I mean the suppression +of an insurrection or the conduct of a foreign war. But +it is not equally strong in the ordinary work of administration. +A good many governments, by far inferior to it in strength, fill +the offices, collect the taxes, administer justice, and do the work +of legislation with much greater efficiency. One cause of this +inefficiency is that the popular standard in such matters is low, +and that it resents dissatisfaction as an assumption of superiority. +When a man says these and those things ought not to be, his +neighbors, who find no fault with them, naturally accuse him of +giving himself airs. It seems as if he thought he knew more +than they did, and was trying to impose his plans on them. The +consequence is that in a land of pure equality, as this is, critics +are always an unpopular class, and criticism is in some sense an +odious work. The only condemnation passed on the governmental +acts or systems is apt to come from the opposite party in the +form of what is called "arraignment," which generally consists in +wholesale abuse of the party in power, treating all their acts, +small or great, as due to folly or depravity, and all their public +men as either fools or knaves. Of course this makes but small +impression on the public mind. It is taken to indicate not so +much a desire to improve the public service as to get hold of the +offices, and has as a general rule but little effect. Parties lose +their hold on power through some conspicuously obnoxious acts or +failures; never, or very rarely, through the judgments passed on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 6377]</a></span> +them by hostile writers or orators. And yet nothing is more +necessary to successful government than abundant criticism from +sources not open to the suspicion of particular interest. There is +nothing which bad governments so much dislike and resent as +criticism, and have in past ages taken so much pains to put +down. In fact, a history of the civil liberty would consist +largely of an account of the resistance to criticism on the part +of rulers. One of the first acts of a successful tyranny or despotism +is always the silencing of the press or the establishment +of a censorship.</p> + +<p>Popular objection to criticism is however senseless, because +it is through criticism—that is, through discrimination between +two things, customs, or courses—that the race has managed to +come out of the woods and lead a civilized life. The first man +who objected to the general nakedness, and advised his fellows to +put on clothes, was the first critic. Criticism of a high tariff +recommends a low tariff; criticism of monarchy recommends a +republic; criticism of vice recommends virtue. In fact, almost +every act of life, in the practice of a profession or the conduct +of a business, condemns one course and suggests another. The +word means <i>judging</i>, and judgment is the highest of the human +faculties, the one which most distinguishes us from the animals.</p> + +<p>There is probably nothing from which the public service of +the country suffers more to-day than the silence of its educated +class; that is, the small amount of criticism which comes +from the disinterested and competent sources. It is a very rare +thing for an educated man to say anything publicly about the +questions of the day. He is absorbed in science, or art, or literature, +in the practice of his profession, or in the conduct of his +business; and if he has any interest at all in public affairs, it is +a languid one. He is silent because he does not much care, or +because he does not wish to embarrass the administration or +"hurt the party," or because he does not feel that anything he +could say would make much difference. So that on the whole, +it is very rarely that the instructed opinion of the country is ever +heard on any subject. The report of the Bar Association on the +nomination of Maynard in New York was a remarkable exception +to this rule. Some improvement in this direction has been +made by the appearance of the set of people known as the "Mugwumps," +who are, in the main, men of cultivation. They have +been defined in various ways. They are known to the masses<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 6378]</a></span> +mainly as "kickers"; that is, dissatisfied, querulous people, who +complain of everybody and cannot submit to party discipline. But +they are the only critics who do not criticize in the interest of +party, but simply in that of good government. They are a kind +of personage whom the bulk of the voters know nothing about +and find it difficult to understand, and consequently load with +ridicule and abuse. But their movement, though its visible recognizable +effects on elections may be small, has done inestimable +service in slackening the bonds of party discipline, in making +the expression of open dissent from party programmes respectable +and common, and in increasing the unreliable vote in large +States like New York. It is of the last importance that this unreliable +vote—that is, the vote which party leaders cannot count +on with certainty—should be large in such States. The mere +fear of it prevents a great many excesses.</p> + +<p>But in criticism one always has hard work in steering a +straight course between optimism and pessimism. These are the +Scylla and Charybdis of the critic's career. Almost every man +who thinks or speaks about public affairs is either an optimist or +a pessimist; which he is, depends a good deal on temperament, +but often on character. The political jobber or corruptionist is +almost always an optimist. So is the prosperous business man. +So is nearly every politician, because the optimist is nearly always +the more popular of the two. As a general rule, people +like cheerful men and the promise of good times. The kill-joy +and bearer of bad news has always been an odious character. +But for the cultivated man there is no virtue in either optimism +or pessimism. Some people think it a duty to be optimistic, and +for some people it may be a duty; but one of the great uses of +education is to teach us to be neither one nor the other. In the +management of our personal affairs, we try to be neither one +nor the other. In business, a persistent and uproarious optimist +would certainly have poor credit. And why? Because in business +the trustworthy man, as everybody knows, is the man who +sees things as they are: and to see things as they are, without +glamor or illusion, is the first condition of worldly success. It +is absolutely essential in war, in finance, in law, in every field +of human activity in which the future has to be thought of and +provided for. It is just as essential in politics. The only reason +why it is not thought as essential in politics is, the punishment +for failure or neglect comes in politics more slowly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 6379]</a></span></p> + +<p>The pessimist has generally a bad name, but there is a good +deal to be said for him. To take a recent illustration, the man +who took pessimistic views of the silver movement was for nearly +twenty years under a cloud. This gloomy anticipation of 1873 +was not realized until 1893. For a thousand years after Marcus +Aurelius, the pessimist, if I may use the expression, was "cock +of the walk." He certainly has no reason to be ashamed of his +rôle in the Eastern world for a thousand years after the Mohammedan +Hegira. In Italy and Spain he has not needed to hang +his head since the Renaissance. In fact, if we take various nations +and long reaches of time, we shall find that the gloomy +man has been nearly as often justified by the course of events as +the cheerful one. Neither of them has any special claim to a +hearing on public affairs. A persistent optimist, although he may +be a most agreeable man in family life, is likely, in business or +politics, to be just as foolish and unbearable as a persistent pessimist. +He is as much out of harmony with the order of nature. +The universe is not governed on optimistic any more than on +pessimistic principles. The best and wisest of men make their +mistakes and have their share of sorrow and sickness and losses. +So also the most happily situated nations must suffer from internal +discord, the blunders of statesmen, and the madness of the +people. What Cato said in the Senate of the conditions of success, +"vigilando, agendo, bene consulendo, prospere omnia cedunt," +is as true to-day as it was two thousand years ago. We must +remember that though the optimist may be the pleasantest man to +have about us, he is the least likely to take precautions; that is, +the least likely to watch and work for success. We owe a great +deal of our slovenly legislation to his presence in large numbers +in Congress and the legislatures. The great suffering through +which we are now passing, in consequence of the persistence +in our silver purchases, is the direct result of unreasoning optimism. +Its promoters disregarded the warnings of economists and +financiers because they believed that somehow, they did not +know how, the thing would come out right in the end. The +silver collapse, together with the Civil War over slavery, are +striking illustrations to occur in one century, of the fact that +if things come out right in the end, it is often after periods of +great suffering and disaster. Could people have foreseen how the +slavery controversy would end, what frantic efforts would have +been made for peaceful abolition! Could people have foreseen<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 6380]</a></span> +the panic of last year, with its wide-spread disaster, what haste +would have been made to stop the silver purchases! And yet +the experience of mankind afforded abundant reason for anticipating +both results.</p> + +<p>This leads me to say that the reason why educated men should +try and keep a fair mental balance between both pessimism and +optimism, is that there has come over the world in the last +twenty-five or thirty years a very great change of opinion touching +the relations of the government to the community. When +Europe settled down to peaceful work after the great wars of the +French Revolution, it was possessed with the idea that the freedom +of the individual was all that was needed for public prosperity +and private happiness. The old government interference +with people's movements and doings was supposed to be the +reason why nations had not been happy in the past. This became +the creed, in this country, of the Democratic party, which came +into existence after the foundation of the federal government. +At the same time there grew up here the popular idea of the +American character, in which individualism was the most marked +trait. If you are not familiar with it in your own time, you may +remember it in the literature of the earlier half of the century. +The typical American was always the architect of his own fortunes. +He sailed the seas and penetrated the forest, and built +cities and lynched the horse thieves, and fought the Indians and +dug the mines, without anybody's help or support. He had even +an ill-concealed contempt for regular troops, as men under control +and discipline. He scorned government for any other purposes +than security and the administration of justice. This was +the kind of American that Tocqueville found here in 1833. He +says:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"The European often sees in the public functionaries simply force; +the American sees nothing but law. One may then say that in +America a man never obeys a man, or anything but justice and law. +Consequently he has formed of himself an opinion which is often +exaggerated, but is always salutary. He trusts without fear to his +own strength, which appears to him equal to anything. A private +individual conceives some sort of enterprise. Even if this enterprise +have some sort of connection with the public welfare, it never occurs +to him to address himself to the government in order to obtain its +aid. He makes his plan known, offers to carry it out, calls other +individuals to his aid, and struggles with all his might against any +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 6381]</a></span>obstacles there may be in his way. Often, without doubt, he succeeds +less well than the State would in his place; but in the long +run the general result of individual enterprises far surpasses anything +the government could do."</p></div> + +<p>Now there is no doubt that if this type of character has not +passed away, it has been greatly modified; and it has been modified +by two agencies—the "labor problem," as it is called, and +legislative protection to native industry. I am not going to make +an argument about the value of this protection in promoting +native industry, or about its value from the industrial point of +view. We may or we may not owe to it the individual progress +and prosperity of the United States. About that I do not propose +to say anything. What I want to say is that the doctrine +that it is a function of government, not simply to foster industry +in general, but to consider the case of every particular industry +and give it the protection that it needs, could not be +preached and practiced for thirty years in a community like this, +without modifying the old American conception of the relation +of the government to the individual. It makes the government, +in a certain sense, a partner in every industrial enterprise, and +makes every Presidential election an affair of the pocket to every +miner and manufacturer and to his men; for the men have for +fully thirty years been told that the amount of their wages would +depend, to a certain extent at least, on the way the election +went. The notion that the government owes assistance to individuals +in carrying on business and making a livelihood has +in fact, largely through the tariff discussions, permeated a very +large class of the community, and has materially changed what I +may call the American outlook. It has greatly reinforced among +the foreign-born population the socialistic ideas which many +bring here with them, of the powers and duties of the State +toward labor; for it is preached vehemently by the employing +class.</p> + +<p>What makes this look the more serious is, that our political +and social manners are not adapted to it. In Europe, the State +is possessed of an administrative machine which has a finish, +efficacy, and permanence unknown here. Tocqueville comments +on its absence among us; and it is, as all the advocates of civil-service +reform know, very difficult to supply. All the agencies +of the government suffer from the imposition on them of what +I may call non-American duties. For instance, a custom-house<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 6382]</a></span> +organized as a political machine was never intended to collect the +enormous sum of duties which must pass through its hands under +our tariff. A post-office whose master has to be changed every +four years to "placate" Tammany, or the anti-Snappers, or any +other body of politicians, was never intended to handle the huge +mass which American mails have now become. One of the +greatest objections to the income tax is the prying into people's +affairs which it involves. No man likes to tell what his income +is to every stranger, much less to a politician, which our collectors +are sure to be. Secrecy on the part of the collector is in +fact essential to reconcile people to it in England or Germany, +where it is firmly established; but our collectors sell their lists to +the newspapers in order to make the contributors pay up.</p> + +<p>In all these things, we are trying to meet the burdens and +responsibilities of much older societies with the machinery of a +much earlier and simpler state of things. It is high time to halt +in this progress until our administrative system has been brought +up to the level even of our present requirements. It is quite +true that, with our system of State and federal constitutions +laying prohibitions on the Legislature and Congress, any great +extension of the sphere of government in our time seems very +unlikely. Yet the assumption by Congress, with the support of +the Supreme Court, of the power to issue paper money in time +of peace, the power to make prolonged purchases of a commodity +like silver, the power to impose an income tax, to execute +great public works, and to protect native industry, are powers +large enough to effect a great change in the constitution of society +and in the distribution of wealth, such as, it is safe to say, +in the present state of human culture, no government ought to +have and exercise.</p> + +<p>One hears every day from educated people some addition to +the number of things which "governments" ought to do, but for +which any government we have at present is totally unfit. One +listens to them with amazement, when looking at the material +of which our government is composed,—for the matter of that, +of which all governments are composed; for I suppose there is no +question that all legislative bodies in the world have in twenty +years run down in quality. The parliamentary system is apparently +failing to meet the demands of modern democratic society, +and is falling into some disrepute; but it would seem as if there +was at present just as little chance of a substitute of any kind as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 6383]</a></span> +of the dethronement of universal suffrage. It will probably last +indefinitely, and be as good or as bad as its constituents make +it. But this probable extension of the powers and functions of +government makes more necessary than ever a free expression +of opinion, and especially of educated opinion. We may rail at +"mere talk" as much as we please, but the probability is that +the affairs of nations and of men will be more and more regulated +by talk. The amount of talk which is now expended on +all subjects of human interest—and in "talk" I include contributions +to periodical literature—is something of which no previous +age has had the smallest conception. Of course it varies +infinitely in quality. A very large proportion of it does no good +beyond relieving the feelings of the talker. Political philosophers +maintain, and with good reason, that one of its greatest uses is +keeping down discontent under popular government. It is undoubtedly +true that it is an immense relief to a man with a +grievance to express his feelings about it in words, even if he +knows that his words will have no immediate effect. Self-love is +apt to prevent most men from thinking that anything they say +with passion or earnestness will utterly and finally fail. But still +it is safe to suppose that one half of the talk of the world on +subjects of general interest is waste. But the other half certainly +tells. We know this from the change in ideas from generation +to generation. We see that opinions which at one time +everybody held became absurd in the course of half a century—opinions +about religion and morals and manners and government. +Nearly every man of my age can recall old opinions of his own +on subjects of general interest, which he once thought highly +respectable, and which he is now almost ashamed of having ever +held. He does not remember when he changed them, or why, +but somehow they have passed away from him.</p> + +<p>In communities these changes are often very striking. The +transformation, for instance, of the England of Cromwell into the +England of Queen Anne, or of the New England of Cotton +Mather into the New England of Theodore Parker and Emerson, +was very extraordinary, but it would be very difficult to say in +detail what brought it about or when it began. Lecky has some +curious observations in his "History of Rationalism" on these +silent changes in new beliefs, apropos of the disappearance of the +belief in witchcraft. Nobody could say what had swept it away; +but it appeared that in a certain year people were ready to burn<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 6384]</a></span> +old women as witches, and a few years later were ready to laugh +at or pity any one who thought old women could be witches. +"At one period," says he, "we find every one disposed to believe +in witches; at a later period we find this predisposition has +silently passed away." The belief in witchcraft may perhaps be +considered a somewhat violent illustration, like the change in +public opinion about slavery in this country. But there can be +no doubt that it is talk—somebody's, anybody's, everybody's talk—by +which these changes are wrought, by which each generation +comes to feel and think differently from its predecessor.</p> + +<p>No one ever talks freely about anything without contributing +something, let it be ever so little, to the unseen forces which carry +the race on to its final destiny. Even if he does not make a positive +impression, he counteracts or modifies some other impression, +or sets in motion some train of ideas in some one else, which +helps to change the face of the world. So I shall, in disregard +of the great laudation of silence which filled the earth in the +days of Carlyle, say that one of the functions of an educated man +is to talk; and of course he should try to talk wisely.</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 6385]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 70%;"> +<a name="GOETHE1" id="GOETHE1"></a> +<span class="caption">GOETHE</span> +<img src="images/goethe.jpg" width="100%" alt="GOETHE." title="GOETHE." /> +</div> +<h2><a name="GOETHE" id="GOETHE"></a>GOETHE</h2> + +<h4>(1749-1832)</h4> + +<h4>BY EDWARD DOWDEN</h4> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 90px;"> +<img src="images/capj.png" width="90" height="91" alt="J" title="J" /> +</div><p class="dropcap">ohann Wolfgang Goethe was born at Frankfort-on-the-Main +on August 28th, 1749, and died at Weimar on March 22d, +1832. His great life, extending over upwards of fourscore +years, makes him a man of the eighteenth century and also of the nineteenth. +He belongs not only to German but to European literature. +And in the history of European literature his position is that of successor +to Voltaire and Rousseau. Humanity, as Voltaire said, had lost +its title-deeds, and the task of the eighteenth century was to recover +them. Under all Voltaire's zeal for destruction in matters of religious +belief lay a positive faith and a creative sentiment,—a faith in human +intellect and the sentiment of social justice. What indefatigable toil! +what indefatigable play! Surely it was not all to establish a negation. +Voltaire poured a gay yet bitter <i>élan</i> into the intellectual movement +of his time. Yet amid his various efforts for humanity he +wanted love; he wanted reverence. And although a positive tendency +underlies his achievements, we are warranted in repeating the +common sentence, that upon the whole he destroyed more than he +built up.</p> + +<p>Voltaire fought to enfranchise the understanding. Rousseau +dreamed, brooded, suffered, to emancipate the heart. A wave of passion, +or at least of sentiment, swept over Europe with the 'Nouvelle +Héloise,' the 'Émile,' the 'Confessions.' It was Rousseau, exclaims +Byron, who "threw enchantment over passion," who "knew how to +make madness beautiful." Such an emancipation of the heart was felt, +in the eighteenth century, to be a blessed deliverance from the +material interests and the eager yet too arid speculation of the age. +But Byron in that same passage of 'Childe Harold' names Rousseau +"the self-torturing sophist." And a sophist Rousseau was. His intellect +fed upon fictions, and dangerous fictions,—fictions respecting +nature, respecting the individual man, respecting human society. +Therefore his intellect failed to illuminate, clarify, tranquilize his +heart. His emotions were turbid, restless, and lacking in sanity.</p> + +<p>Here then were Goethe's two great predecessors: one a most vivacious +intelligence, the other a brooding sensibility; one aiming at an +emancipation of the understanding, but deficient in reverence and in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 6386]</a></span> +love; the other aiming at an emancipation of the affections, but deficient +in sanity of thought. In what relation stood Goethe to these +great forces of the eighteenth century?</p> + +<p>In his old age Goethe, speaking of Voltaire, uses the words "a +universal source of light." But as a young man he was repelled by +"the factious dishonesty of Voltaire, and his perversion of so many +worthy subjects." "He would never have done," says Goethe, "with +degrading religion and the sacred books, for the sake of injuring +priestcraft, as they called it." Goethe, indeed, did not deny a use to +the spirit of negation. Mephistopheles lives and works. Yet he lives +and works as the unwilling servant of the Lord, and the service he +renders is to provoke men from indolence to activity.</p> + +<p>Into the influence of Rousseau, on the contrary, and into the general +movement of feeling to which Rousseau belonged, Goethe in his +youth was caught, almost inevitably; and he abandoned himself to it +for a time, it might seem without restraint.</p> + +<p>Yet Goethe differed from Rousseau as profoundly as he differed +from Voltaire. Rousseau's undisciplined sensibility, morbidly excited +by the harshness or imagined harshness of his fellows, by bodily torment, +by broodings in solitude, became at last one quivering mass of +disease. "No tragedy had ever a fifth act so squalid." What a contrast +to the closing scenes of Goethe's life in that house of his, like +a modest temple of the Muses, listening to Plutarch read aloud by +his daughter-in-law, or serenely active, "ohne Hast aber ohne Rast" +(without haste, but without rest), in widening his sympathies with +men or enlarging his knowledge of nature.</p> + +<p>How was this? Why did the ways part so widely for Rousseau +and for Goethe?</p> + +<p>The young creator of 'Werther' may seem to have started on his +career as a German Rousseau. In reality, 'Werther' expressed only +a fragment of Goethe's total self. A reserve force of will and an intellect +growing daily in clearness and in energy would not permit +him to end as Rousseau ended. In 'Götz von Berlichingen' there +goes up a cry for freedom; it presents the more masculine side of +that spirit of revolt from the bonds of the eighteenth century, that +"return to nature," which is presented in its more feminine aspects +by 'Werther.' But by degrees it became evident to Goethe that the +only true ideal of freedom is a liberation not of the passions, not of +the intellect, but of the whole man; that this involves a conciliation +of all the powers and faculties within us; and that such a conciliation +can be effected only by degrees, and by steadfast toil.</p> + +<p>And so we find him willing during ten years at Weimar to undertake +work which might appear to be fatal to the development of his +genius. To reform army administration, make good roads, work the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 6387]</a></span> +mines with energetic intelligence, restore the finances to order,—was +this fit employment for one born to be a poet? Except a few lyrics +and the prose 'Iphigenie,' these years produced no literary work of +importance; yet Goethe himself speaks of them as his "zweite Schriftstellerepoche."—his +second epoch as a writer. They were needful to +make him a master in the art of life, needful to put him into possession +of all his powers. Men of genius are quick growers; but men of +the highest genius, which includes the wisdom of human life, are not +speedily ripe. Goethe had entered literature early; he had stormed +the avenues. Now at six-and-twenty he was a chief figure in German, +even in European, literature; and from twenty-six to thirty-seven +he published, we may say nothing. But though he ceased to +astonish the world, he was well employed in widening the basis of +his existence; in organizing his faculties; in conciliating passions, intellect, +and will; in applying his mind to the real world; in endeavoring +to comprehend it aright; in testing and training his powers by +practical activity.</p> + +<p>A time came when he felt that his will and skill were mature; +that he was no longer an apprentice in the art of living, but a master +craftsman. Tasks that had grown irksome and were felt to be a distraction +from higher duties, he now abandoned. Goethe fled for a +time to Italy, there to receive his degree in the high school of life, +and to start upon a course of more advanced studies. Thenceforward +until his closing days the record is one of almost uninterrupted labor +in his proper fields of literature, art, and science. "In Rome," he +wrote, "I have for the first time found myself, for the first time come +into harmony with myself, and grown happy and rational." He had +found himself, because his passions and his intellect now co-operated; +his pursuit of truth had all the ardor of a first love; his pursuit of +beauty was not a fantastic chase, but was subject to rational law; and +his effort after truth and his effort after beauty were alike supported +by an adult will.</p> + +<p>His task, regarded as a whole, was to do over again the work +of the Renascence. But whereas the Renascence had been a large +national or European movement, advancing towards its ends partly +through popular passions and a new enthusiasm, the work which +Goethe accomplished was more an affair of intelligence, criticism, +conscious self-direction. It was less of a flood sweeping away old +dikes and dams, and more of a dawn quietly and gradually drawing +back the borders of darkness and widening the skirts of light. A +completely developed human being, for the uses of the world,—this +was the ideal in which Goethe's thoughts centred, and towards which +his most important writings constantly tend. A completely developed +State or commonwealth should follow, as an ideal arising out of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 6388]</a></span> +needs and demands of a complete individual. Goethe knew that +growth comes not by self-observation and self-analysis, but by exercise. +Therefore he turned himself and would turn his disciples to +action, to the objective world; and in order that this action may be +profitable, it must be definite and within a limited sphere. He +preaches self-renunciation; but the self-renunciation he commends is +not self-mortification; it is the active self-abandonment of devotion to +our appropriate work. Such is the teaching of 'Wilhelm Meister': +it traces the progress of a youth far from extraordinary, yet having +within him the capacity for growth, progress through a thousand +errors and illusions, from splendid dreams to modest reality. Life is +discovered by Wilhelm to be a difficult piece of scholarship. The +cry for freedom in 'Götz,' the limitless sigh of passion heard in +'Werther,' are heard no more. If freedom is to be attained, it can +only be through obedience; if we are to "return to nature," it cannot +be in Rousseau's way but through a wise art of living, an art not at +odds with nature, but its complement:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"This is an art which does mend nature—but<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The art itself is nature."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>If we ask,—for this, after all, is the capital question of criticism,—What +has Goethe done to make us better? the answer is: He has +made each of us aspire and endeavor to be no fragment of manhood, +but a man; he has taught us that to squander ourselves in vain +desires is the road to spiritual poverty; that to discover our appropriate +work, and to embody our passion in such work, is the way to +true wealth; that such passion and such toil must be not servile, but +glad and free; that the use of our intelligence is not chiefly to +destroy, but to guide our activity in construction; and that in doing +our best work we incorporate ourselves in the best possible way in +the life of our fellows. Such lessons may seem obvious; but they +had not been taught by Goethe's great predecessors, Voltaire and +Rousseau. Goethe, unlike Voltaire, inculcates reverence and love; +unlike Rousseau, he teaches us to see objects clearly as they are, he +trains us to sanity. And Europe needed sanity in the days of Revolution +and in the days which followed of Reaction.</p> + +<p>Sanity for the imagination Goethe found in classical art. The +young leader of the Romantic revival in Germany resigned his +leadership; he seemed to his contemporaries to have lost the fire +and impulse of his youth; his work was found cold and formal. A +great change had indeed taken place within him; but his ardor had +only grown steadier and stronger, extending now to every part of his +complex nature. The change was a transition from what is merely +inward and personal to what is outward and general. Goethe cared<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 6389]</a></span> +less than formerly to fling out his private passions, and cared more +to comprehend the world and human life and to interpret these +through art. He did not go into bondage under the authority of the +ancients; but he found their methods right, and he endeavored to +work as they had worked. For a time the reaction carried him too +far: in seeking for what is general, he sometimes passed on to what +is abstract, and so was forced into the error of offering symbols to +represent these abstractions, instead of bodying forth his ideas in +imaginative creations. But in the noble drama of 'Iphigenie,' in the +epic-idyll of 'Hermann und Dorothea,' and in many of the ballads +written during his period of close companionship with Schiller, we +have examples of art at once modern in sentiment and classical in +method.</p> + +<p>Goethe's faith in the methods of classical art never passed away, +but his narrow exclusiveness yielded. He became, with certain guiding +principles which served as a control, a great eclectic, appropriating +to his own uses whatever he perceived to be excellent. As in +'Hermann und Dorothea' he unites the influences of Greek art with +true German feeling, so in his collection of short lyrics, the 'West-Östlicher +Divan' (West-Eastern Divan), he brings together the genius +of the Orient and that of the Western world, and sheds over both +the spiritual illumination of the wisdom of his elder years. Gradually +his creative powers waned, but he was still interested in all—except +perhaps politics—that can concern the mind; he was still the +greatest of critics, entering with his intelligence into everything and +understanding everything, as nearly universal in his sympathies as a +human mind can be. The Goethe of these elder years is seen to +most advantage in the 'Conversations with Eckermann.'</p> + +<p>The most invulnerable of Goethe's writings are his lyrical poems; +against the best of these, criticism can allege nothing. They need no +interpreter. But the reader who studies them in chronological order +will observe that as time went on, the lyric which is a spontaneous +jet of feeling is replaced by the lyric in which there is constructive +art and considerate evolution. In the poems of the 'West-Östlicher +Divan' Goethe returns to the lyric of spontaneity, but their inspiration +is rather that of a gracious wisdom, at once serious and playful, +than of passion.</p> + +<p>His period of romance and sentiment is best represented by 'The +Sorrows of Werther.' His adult wisdom of life is found most abundantly +in 'Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship.' The world has long +since agreed that if Goethe is to be represented by a single work, it +shall be by 'Faust.' And even those who perceive that 'Faust' is +best understood by being taken along with Goethe's other writings—his +early 'Prometheus,' his autobiography, his travels in Italy, his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 6390]</a></span> +classical dramas, his scientific studies, his work as a critic, his vast +correspondence, his conversations in old age—cannot quarrel with +the judgment of the world.</p> + +<p>'Faust,' if we include under that name the First and the Second +Parts, is the work of Goethe's whole life. Begun and even far advanced +in early manhood, it was taken up again in his midmost +years, and was completed with a faltering hand in the closing season +of his old age. What it loses in unity, or at least in harmonious +development as a piece of art, it gains in autobiographical interest. +All his works, Goethe said, constituted a great confession. More than +any other of his writings, 'Faust' is the confession of his life.</p> + +<p>There are two ways in which a reader may deal with 'Faust.' +He may choose for his own delight a fragment, detach it and disregard +the rest; he may view this fragment, if he pleases, as a whole, +as a rounded work of art. Such a reader will refuse to pass beyond +the First Part of the vast encyclopædic poem. To do this is legitimate. +The earliest form in which we possess the drama, that of the +transcript made by Fräulein von Göchhausen, is a tragedy which +might be named 'The Tragedy of Margaret.' Possibilities of further +development lay in the subject, were indeed required by the subject, +and Goethe had probably already conceived certain of them; yet the +stadium in the progress of Faust's history included in 'The Tragedy +of Margaret' had a unity in itself. But a reader may approach +'Faust' otherwise; he may view it as expressing the complete mind +of Goethe on some of the deepest problems of human life. Viewing +it thus, he must accept the whole work as Goethe has given it; he +must hold in abeyance, at least for a time, his own particular likings +and dislikes. While keeping his mind open to all the poetry of Faust, +he will soon discover that here is something more than a poem. It +may be unfortunate for the work of art that it belongs, certainly in +its execution, possibly even in the growth of its conception, to far +sundered periods of its author's career, when his feelings respecting +art were different, when his capacity for rendering his ideas was now +more and now less adequate. Such a reader, however, would part +with nothing: in what is admirable he finds the master's hand; in +what is feeble he discovers the same hand, but faltering, and pathetic +in its infirmity. He is interested in 'Faust' not solely or chiefly as +'The Tragedy of Margaret': he finds in it the intellect, the character, +the life of Goethe; it is a repository of the deepest thoughts and +feelings concerning human existence of a wise seer, a repository in +which he laid by those thoughts and feelings during sixty years of +his mortal wayfaring.</p> + +<p>From early manhood to extreme old age 'Faust' was with Goethe, +receiving now and again, in Frankfort, in Weimar, in Rome, some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 6391]</a></span> +new accession. We can distinguish the strata or formations of youth, +of manhood, and of the closing years. We recognize by their diversities +of style those parts which were written when creation was +swift and almost involuntary, a passion and a joy, and those parts +through which Goethe labored at an old man's pace, accomplishing +to-day a hand's-breadth, to-morrow perhaps less, and binding blank +pages into his manuscript, that the sight of the gaps might irritate +him to produce. What unity can such a work possess, except that +which comes from the fact that it all proceeded from a single mind, +and that some main threads of thought—for it would be rash to +speak of a ground idea—run through the several parts and bind +them together? 'Faust' has not the unity of a lake whose circuit +the eye can contemplate, a crystal set among the hills. Its unity is +that of a river, rising far away in mountain solitudes, winding below +many a mirrored cliff, passing the habitations of men, temple and +mart, fields of rural toil and fields of war, reaching it may be dull +levels, and forgetting the bright speed it had, until at last the dash of +waves is heard, and its course is accomplished; but from first to last +one stream, proceeding from a single source. Tourists may pick out +a picturesque fragment of its wanderings, and this is well; but perhaps +it is better to find the poetry of its entire career, from its cloudy +cradle to the flats where it loses itself in the ocean.</p> + +<p>The first part of 'Faust' is itself the work of more periods than +one. The original conception may belong to Goethe's student days +at Strassburg. He had grown weary of the four Faculties,—alas, +even of theology; he had known a maiden as fair and sweet and +simple as Gretchen, and he had left her widowed of her first love; +and there in Strassburg was the presence of that old Cathedral, which +inspired so terrible a scene in the 'Faust.' From Strassburg he +returned to Frankfort, and no moments of his career of authorship +were more fruitful than these which preceded the first Weimar years. +It was in the heart of the Storm and Stress; it was the time of +'Götz' and 'Mahomet' and the 'Wandering Jew' and 'Werther' +and 'Prometheus.' Here in Faust was another and a nobler Werther +seeking the infinite; here was another Prometheus, a Titan shackled +yet unsubduable. By Goethe's twenty-sixth year the chief portions +of the 'Faust, a Fragment,' published when he was forty-one, had +been written. But two scenes were added in Rome,—one of these +strange in its fantasy, the Witches' Kitchen,—as if to show that the +poet of the North was not quite enslaved by the beauty of classic +art. It was in the last decade of the eighteenth century that +Schiller succeeded in persuading Goethe to open his Faust papers, +and try to recover the threads of his design. Not until 1808, Goethe's +fifty-ninth year, was the First Part published as we now possess it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 6392]</a></span> +It is therefore incorrect to speak of this Part as the work of the +author's youth; even here a series of strata belonging to different +periods can be distinguished, and critics have contended that even in +this Part may be discovered two schemes or plans not wholly in +harmony each with the other.</p> + +<p>The first Fragment was written, as has been said, in the spirit of +the Storm and Stress. Goethe was weary of the four Faculties. The +magic work of the time which was to restore vigor and joy to men +was <i>Nature</i>. This is the theme of the opening scene of 'Faust.' +Among old instruments and dusty folios and ancestral lumber and +brute skeletons, away from Nature and her living founts of inspiration, +the old scholar has found neither joy nor true knowledge. He +opens the book of Nostradamus and gazes upon the sign of the Macrocosm; +here in a symbol he beholds the life and energy of nature:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Where shall I grasp thee, infinite Nature, where?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye breasts, ye fountains of all life whereon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hang heaven and earth."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>He cannot grasp them; and then turning from the great Cosmos, he +thinks he may at least dare to invoke the spirit of our own mother +planet Earth. But to Faust, with eyes bleared with the dust of the +study, to Faust, living in his own speculations or in dogmatic systems, +the aspect of the Earth Spirit—a living fire—is terrible. He +falls back upon himself almost despairing, when the famulus Wagner +enters. What Werner was to the idealist Wilhelm Meister, Wagner is +to the idealist Faust: the mere scraping together of a little hoard of +barren facts contents Wagner; such grief, such despair as Faust's, are +for this Philistine of learning impossible. And then the fragment of +1790 passes on to Mephistopheles. Whether or not Goethe found the +features of his critical demon in Herder (as Grimm supposes), and +afterwards united these to the more pronounced likeness in his friend +Mephistopheles Merck, matters little. Whether Herder and Merck had +been present or not, Goethe would have found Mephistopheles in his +own heart. For the contrast between the idealist Faust and the realist +Mephistopheles exists in some form or other in almost every great +creation of Goethe. It is the contrast between Werther and Albert, +between Tasso and Antonio, between Edward and the Captain. Sometimes +the nobler spirit of worldliness is dwelt on, as in the case of +Antonio; sometimes the cold, hard, cynical side, as in the case of +Mephistopheles. The theme of Faust as originally conceived was the +turning of an idealist from his own private thoughts and dreams to +the real world; from all that is unnatural,—systems, speculations, barren +knowledge,—to nature and the founts of life; from the solitary +cell to the company of men; to action, beauty, life, and love. If he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 6393]</a></span> +can really succeed in achieving this wisely and well, Faust is saved. +He is delivered from solitude, the inane of speculation, the vagueness +of idealism, and made one with the band of his toiling fellows. But +to accompany him there is the spirit of base worldliness, the realist, +the cynic, who sees the meaner side of all that is actual, who if possible +will seduce Faust into accepting the world apart from that elevating +spirit which ennobles actual life, who will try to baffle and +degrade Faust by degrading all that he now seeks,—action and beauty +and life and love.</p> + +<p>It is Goethe himself who is at odds with himself,—the realist +Goethe set over against the idealist Goethe; and Mephistopheles is +the base realist, the cynic whose endeavor is to mar the union of +high poetry and high prose in human life, which union of high poetry +with high prose Goethe always looked upon as the true condition of +man's activity. In the Prologue in Heaven, written when Schiller +had persuaded Goethe to take up the threads of his play, the Lord +speaks of Faust as his servant. Mephistopheles wagers that he will +seduce Faust from his allegiance to the Highest. The Lord does not +wager; he <i>knows</i>:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Though now he serve me in a maze of doubt,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Yet I will lead him soon where all is clear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gardener knows, when first the bushes sprout,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That bloom and fruit will deck the riper year."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>These vague passionate longings of Faust after truth and reality +and life and love are not evil; they are good: they are as yet indeed +but the sprouting of the immature leaf and bud, but the Lord sees +in these the fruit that is to be. Therefore let Mephistopheles, the +spirit of negation, try his worst, and at the last discover how an +earnest striver's ways are justified by God. Faust may wander, err, +fall, grievously offend,—"as long as man lives, man errs;" but for +him who ever strives upward, through all his errors, there is redemption +in the end.</p> + +<p>The poem belongs to its epoch. Faust is the idealist, Mephistopheles +is the realist, of the eighteenth century. Faust aspires to +nature and freedom like one who had drunk deeply of Rousseau. +Mephistopheles speaks like a degraded disciple of Voltaire, who has +lost his master's positive faith in the human reason. Goethe can accept +as his own neither the position of Voltaire nor that of Rousseau; +but actually he started in life as an antagonist of Voltaire and +a disciple of Rousseau, and in like manner his Faust starts on his +career as one who longs for a "return to nature." While from merely +negative criticism nothing virtuous can be born, the vague longings +of one who loves and hopes promise measureless good.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 6394]</a></span></p> + +<p>Faust's vast aspirations, then, are not sinful; they only need to be +limited and directed to suitable ends. It is as God's servant that he +goes forth with the Demon from his study to the world. And Mephistopheles's +first attempt to degrade Faust is a failure. In the orgy +of Auerbach's cellar, while the boisterous young bloods clash their +glasses, the old scholar sits silent, isolated, ashamed. It is only by +infecting his blood with the witch's poison that Mephistopheles can +lay hold of the spirit of Faust even for a time; and had he not seen +in the mirror that vision of Helena, whom he rightly loves, and whom +indeed he needs, he could not have put to his lips the filthy brewage +of the witch. But now indeed he is snared; the poison rages in his +veins; for one hour he is transformed into what the world basely calls +a man of pleasure. Yet Faust is not wholly lost: his better self, the +untrained, untamed idealist, begins to reassert its power; the fumes +of the poison dissipate themselves. Guilty though he be, his love of +Margaret is not what Mephistopheles requires that it should be: it is +not calculating, egoistic, cynical, nor dull, easeful, and lethargic. It +is not the crime of an experienced worldling nor of a dull, low liver: +it is the crime of one whose unwise heart and untaught imagination +delude him; and therefore though his fall be deep, it is not fatal. +The wrong he has wrought may be blind and terrible as that of +Othello to Desdemona; but it is not the serpentine stinging of an +Iago or a Mephistopheles.</p> + +<p>So through anguish and remorse Faust is doing off the swathe-bands +of delusion, learning to master his will, learning his own heart, +learning the meaning of existence: he does not part from his ideal +self, his high aspirations, his ardent hopes; he is rather transforming +these into realities; he is advancing from dreams to facts, so that in +the end, when his life becomes a lofty prose, it may be interpenetrated +by a noble poetry.</p> + +<p>It were long to trace the history of Faust through the ever purifying +and ascending scale of energies exhibited in the Second Part +of the drama. Affairs of State, science, art, war—all that Goethe +had known by experience—appear in this encyclopædic poem. One +word, however, must be said respecting the 'Helena.' It is a mistake +to view this central portion of the Second Part as solely or chiefly +an allegory of the wedlock of classic and romantic art. As science is +shown to form a needful part of Faust's turning from the inane of +metaphysics to the positive world, so from the Greek spirit he learns +sanity and strength; the deliverance of the ideal man in Faust is +aided by the beauty and the healthfulness of classic art. Through +beauty, as Schiller tried to show in his letters on 'Æsthetic Culture,' +we attain to freedom. Faust is not an artist, but a <i>man</i>; Helena is +but one of the spirits whose influence is needed to make him real<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 6395]</a></span> +and elevated. It is she who qualifies him for achieving practical +work in a high, ideal spirit.</p> + +<p>The Fourth Act of the Second Part is wholly concerned with practical +work. What is this which engages the student of the metaphysic +cell, who had gone through the four Faculties, and is now once again +grown old? What is this? Only well-defined and useful activity. He +has rescued some acres of arable land from the rage of the barren +sea.</p> + +<p>But Faust is not yet wholly delivered from evil; his activity is useful, +indeed, but it lacks the finer grace of charity. He commissions +Mephistopheles to destroy the cottage of old Philemon and Baucis, +which stands in the way of his territorial improvements. It is the +last crime of the unregenerate will. The four gray women—Care +and Blame and Want and Crime—now assail him; but there is virtue +in him to the last. However it may be with himself, grant only +that ages hence the children of men, free and happy, may dwell upon +the soil which he has saved for their place of labor and of love,—grant +but this, and even in the anticipation of it he is made possessor +of the highest bliss. Nor indeed is higher permitted to man +on earth. And now that Faust has at last found satisfaction, and +said to the passing moment, "Stay, thou art so fair," the time has +come for Mephistopheles to claim his soul. But in this very aspiration +after the perfect joy of others—not his own—Faust is forever +delivered from the Evil One. The gray old man lies stretched upon +the sand. Higher powers than those of his own will take him, guard +him, lead him forward. The messengers of God bear away his immortal +part. All Holy Hermits, all Holy Innocents, all Holy Virgins, +the less and the greater Angels, and redeemed women who have +sinned and sorrowed and have been purified, aid in his ultimate purification. +It is the same thought which was interpreted in a lower key +when Wilhelm Meister's fate was intrusted to Natalia. Usefulness +is good; activity is good: but over all these should soar and brood +the Divine graces of life, and love the chief of these. That which +leads us farther than all the rest is what Goethe names "the imperishable +womanly grace," that of love. And so the great mystery-play +reaches its close.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 514px;"> +<img src="images/sign163.png" width="514" height="59" alt="Edward Dowden" title="Edward Dowden" /> +</div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 6396]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><span class="smcap">Biographical Note.</span>—Johann Wolfgang von Goethe was born at +Frankfort-on-the-Main, August 28th, 1749; he attended the University +of Leipzig 1765-1768, and went to Strassburg in 1770, where he met +Herder, made the acquaintance of Shakespeare, and in 1771 took his +degree. 'Götz von Berlichingen' in 1773 announced the dawn of a +new era in German letters, and in 1774 'The Sorrows of Werther' +made the poet world-famous. In 1775 Goethe accepted the invitation +of Duke Carl August and went to Weimar, which remained thenceforth +his home. The Italian journey, marking an epoch in the poet's +life, took place in 1786-1787. The 'Faust Fragment' appeared in +1790. The friendship with Schiller, also of far-reaching importance +in Goethe's life, began in 1794 and was terminated only by Schiller's +death in 1805. 'Hermann and Dorothea' was published in 1797. In +1806 Goethe married Christiane Vulpius. The First Part of 'Faust' +appeared in 1808;—in 1816 the poet is at work upon his 'Autobiography' +and the 'Italian Journey'; the first part of 'Wilhelm Meister's +Apprenticeship' appeared in 1821, and was completed in 1829. +'Faust' was finished on July 20th, 1831. Goethe died at Weimar on +March 22d, 1832.</p> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="FROM_FAUST" id="FROM_FAUST"></a>FROM 'FAUST'</h3> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Chorus of the Archangels; from the Prologue in Heaven</span></h3> + +<h4>Shelley's Translation</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Raphael</i>—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The sun makes music as of old<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Amid the rival spheres of heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On its predestined circle rolled<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With thunder speed; the angels even<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Draw strength from gazing on its glance,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Though none its meaning fathom may<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The world's unwithered countenance<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Is bright as at creation's day.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Gabriel</i>—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And swift and swift with rapid lightness<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The adorned earth spins silently,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alternating Elysian brightness<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With deep and dreadful night; the sea<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Foams in broad billows from the deep<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Up to the rocks, and rocks and ocean,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Onward, with spheres which never sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Are hurried in eternal motion.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Michael</i>—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And tempests in contention roar<br /></span> +<span class="i1">From land to sea, from sea to land;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And raging, weave a chain of power,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Which girds the earth as with a band.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 6397]</a></span><span class="i0">A flashing desolation there<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Flames before the thunder's way;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But thy servants, Lord, revere<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The gentle changes of thy day.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">CHORUS OF THE THREE</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The angels draw strength from thy glance,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Though no one comprehend thee may;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy world's unwithered countenance<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Is bright as on creation's day.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="SCENES_FROM_FAUST" id="SCENES_FROM_FAUST"></a>SCENES FROM 'FAUST'</h3> + +<h4>Translated by Bayard Taylor</h4> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>All the following selections from 'Faust' are from Taylor's translation. +Copyright 1870, by Bayard Taylor, and reprinted here by permission of +and special agreement with Mrs. Taylor, and Houghton, Mifflin & Co., +publishers, Boston.</p></div> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">Faust and Wagner</span></h3> + +<p class="center">FAUST</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Oh, happy he, who still renews<br /></span> +<span class="i3">The hope from Error's deeps to rise forever!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That which one does not know, one needs to use,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And what one knows, one uses never.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But let us not, by such despondence, so<br /></span> +<span class="i3">The fortune of this hour embitter!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mark how, beneath the evening sunlight's glow,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">The green-embosomed houses glitter!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The glow retreats; done is the day of toil;<br /></span> +<span class="i3">It yonder hastes, new fields of life exploring;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ah, that no wing can lift me from the soil,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Upon its track to follow, follow soaring!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then would I see eternal Evening gild<br /></span> +<span class="i3">The silent world beneath me glowing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On fire each mountain-peak, with peace each valley filled,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The silver brook to golden rivers flowing.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The mountain chain, with all its gorges deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Would then no more impede my godlike motion;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And now before mine eyes expands the ocean<br /></span> +<span class="i3">With all its bays, in shining sleep!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet finally the weary god is sinking;<br /></span> +<span class="i3">The new-born impulse fires my mind.—<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 6398]</a></span><span class="i2">I hasten on, his beams eternal drinking.<br /></span> +<span class="i3">The Day before me and the Night behind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above me heaven unfurled, the floor of waves beneath me,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A glorious dream! though now the glories fade.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Alas! the wings that lift the mind no aid<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of wings to lift the body can bequeath me.<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Yet in each soul is born the pleasure<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of yearning onward, upward and away.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When o'er our heads, lost in the vaulted azure,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">The lark sends down his flickering lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">When over crags and piny highlands<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The poising eagle slowly soars,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And over plains and lakes and islands<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The crane sails by to other shores.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">WAGNER</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">I've had, myself, at times, some odd caprices,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But never yet such impulse felt, as this is.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">One soon fatigues on woods and fields to look,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Nor would I beg the bird his wing to spare us:<br /></span> +<span class="i3">How otherwise the mental raptures bear us<br /></span> +<span class="i4">From page to page, from book to book!<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Then winter nights take loveliness untold,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As warmer life in every limb had crowned you;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when your hands unroll some parchment rare and old,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All heaven descends, and opens bright around you!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">FAUST</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">One impulse art thou conscious of, at best;<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Oh, never seek to know the other!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Two souls, alas! reside within my breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And each withdraws from, and repels, its brother.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">One with tenacious organs holds in love<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And clinging lust the world in its embraces;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The other strongly sweeps, this dust above,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Into the high ancestral spaces.<br /></span> +<span class="i5">If there be airy spirits near,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">'Twixt heaven and earth on potent errands fleeing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Let them drop down the golden atmosphere,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And bear me forth to new and varied being!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yea, if a magic mantle once were mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To waft me o'er the world at pleasure,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I would not for the costliest stores of treasure—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Not for a monarch's robe—the gift resign.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 6399]</a></span></p> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Faust and Mephistopheles</span></h3> + +<p class="center">FAUST</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Canst thou, poor Devil, give me whatsoever?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When was a human soul, in its supreme endeavor.<br /></span> +<span class="i3">E'er understood by such as thou?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet hast thou food which never satiates now:<br /></span> +<span class="i3">The restless, ruddy gold hast thou,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That runs quicksilver-like one's fingers through;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A game whose winnings no man ever knew;<br /></span> +<span class="i3">A maid that even from my breast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beckons my neighbor with her wanton glances,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">And Honor's godlike zest,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">The meteor that a moment dances,—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Show me the fruits that, ere they're gathered, rot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And trees that daily with new leafage clothe them!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">MEPHISTOPHELES</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">Such a demand alarms me not:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Such treasures have I, and can show them.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But still the time may reach us, good my friend,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When peace we crave, and more luxurious diet.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">FAUST</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When on an idler's bed I stretch myself in quiet,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">There let at once my record end!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Canst thou with lying flattery rule me,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Until self-pleased myself I see,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Canst thou with rich enjoyment fool me,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Let that day be the last for me!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bet I offer.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">MEPHISTOPHELES</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">Done!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">FAUST</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10">And heartily!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When thus I hail the Moment flying:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">"Ah, still delay—thou art so fair!"—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then bind me in thy bonds undying,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">My final ruin then declare!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then let the death-bell chime the token,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Then art thou from thy service free!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The clock may stop, the hand be broken,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Then Time be finished unto me!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 6400]</a></span></p> +<h3><span class="smcap">Forest and Cavern</span></h3> + +<p class="center">FAUST [<i>alone</i>]</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Spirit sublime, thou gav'st me, gav'st me all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For which I prayed. Not unto me in vain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hast thou thy countenance revealed in fire.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou gav'st me nature as a kingdom grand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With power to feel and to enjoy it. Thou<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not only cold, amazed acquaintance yield'st,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But grantest that in her profoundest breast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I gaze, as in the bosom of a friend.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ranks of living creatures thou dost lead<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before me, teaching me to know my brothers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In air and water and the silent wood.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when the storm in forests roars and grinds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The giant firs, in falling, neighbor boughs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And neighbor trunks with crushing weight bear down,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And falling, fill the hills with hollow thunders,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then to the cave secure thou leadest me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then show'st me mine own self, and in my breast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The deep mysterious miracles unfold.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when the perfect moon before my gaze<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Comes up with soothing light, around me float<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From every precipice and thicket damp<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The silvery phantoms of the ages past,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And temper the austere delight of thought.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That nothing can be perfect unto Man<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I now am conscious. With this ecstasy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which brings me near and nearer to the gods,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou gav'st the comrade, whom I now no more<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can do without, though, cold and scornful, he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Demeans me to myself, and with a breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A word, transforms thy gifts to nothingness.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within my breast he fans a lawless fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unwearied, for that fair and lovely form:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus in desire I hasten to enjoyment,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in enjoyment pine to feel desire.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 6401]</a></span></p> +<h3><span class="smcap">Margaret</span></h3> +<p class="center">[<i>At the spinning-wheel, alone</i>]</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My peace is gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart is sore:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I never shall find it,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, nevermore!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Save I have him near,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The grave is here;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The world is gall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bitterness all.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My poor weak head<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Is racked and crazed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My thought is lost,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">My senses mazed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My peace is gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">My heart is sore:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I never shall find it,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Ah, nevermore!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To see him, him only,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">At the pane I sit;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To meet him, him only,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The house I quit.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His lofty gait,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">His noble size,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The smile of his mouth,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The power of his eyes,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And the magic flow<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of his talk, the bliss<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the clasp of his hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And ah! his kiss!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My peace is gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">My heart is sore:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I never shall find it,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Ah, nevermore!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My bosom yearns<br /></span> +<span class="i1">For him alone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, dared I clasp him,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And hold, and own!<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 6402]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And kiss his mouth<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To heart's desire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on his kisses<br /></span> +<span class="i1">At last expire!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">Martha's Garden</span></h3> + +<p class="center">MARGARET</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Promise me, Henry!—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">FAUST</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What I can!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">MARGARET</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">How is't with thy religion, pray?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou art a dear, good-hearted man,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And yet, I think, dost not incline that way.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">FAUST</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Leave that, my child! Thou know'st my love is tender;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For love, my blood and life would I surrender,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And as for faith and church, I grant to each his own.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">MARGARET</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That's not enough: we must believe thereon.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">FAUST</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Must we?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">MARGARET</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">Would that I had some influence!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, too, thou honorest not the Holy Sacraments.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">FAUST</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I honor them.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">MARGARET</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">Desiring no possession.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis long since thou hast been to mass or to confession.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Believest thou in God?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">FAUST</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">My darling, who shall dare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"I believe in God!" to say?<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 6403]</a></span><span class="i1">Ask priest or sage the answer to declare,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And it will seem a mocking play,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sarcasm on the asker.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">MARGARET</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">Then thou believest not!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">FAUST</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hear me not falsely, sweetest countenance!<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Who dare express Him?<br /></span> +<span class="i5">And who profess Him,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Saying: I believe in Him!<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Who, feeling, seeing,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Deny His being,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Saying: I believe Him not!<br /></span> +<span class="i5">The All-enfolding,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">The All-upholding,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Folds and upholds he not<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Thee, me, Himself?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Arches not there the sky above us?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Lies not beneath us, firm, the earth?<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And rise not, on us shining<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Friendly, the everlasting stars?<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Look I not, eye to eye, on thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And feel'st not, thronging<br /></span> +<span class="i3">To head and heart, the force,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Still weaving its eternal secret,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Invisible, visible, round thy life?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Vast as it is, fill with that force thy heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when thou in the feeling wholly blessed art,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Call it, then, what thou wilt,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Call it Bliss! Heart! Love! God!—<br /></span> +<span class="i3">I have no name to give it!<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Feeling is all in all:<br /></span> +<span class="i3">The Name is sound and smoke,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Obscuring Heaven's clear glow.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">MARGARET</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All that is fine and good, to hear it so:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Much the same way the preacher spoke,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only with slightly different phrases.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">FAUST</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i5">The same thing, in all places,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All hearts that beat beneath the heavenly day—<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 6404]</a></span><span class="i1">Each in its language—say;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then why not I in mine as well?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">MARGARET</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To hear it thus, it may seem passable;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet some hitch in't there must be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For thou hast no Christianity.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">FAUST</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dear love!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">MARGARET</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">I've long been grieved to see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That thou art in such company.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">FAUST</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How so?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">MARGARET</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">The man who with thee goes, thy mate,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Within my deepest, inmost soul I hate.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In all my life there's nothing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has given my heart so keen a pang of loathing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As his repulsive face has done.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">FAUST</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nay, fear him not, my sweetest one!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">MARGARET</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I feel his presence like something ill.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I've else, for all, a kindly will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, much as my heart to see thee yearneth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The secret horror of him returneth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I think the man a knave, as I live!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I do him wrong, may God forgive!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">FAUST</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There must be such queer birds, however.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">MARGARET</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">Live with the like of him may I never!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When once inside the door comes he,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">He looks around so sneeringly,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">And half in wrath:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One sees that in nothing no interest he hath:<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 6405]</a></span><span class="i0">'Tis written on his very forehead<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That love, to him, is a thing abhorred.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am so happy on thine arm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So free, so yielding, and so warm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in his presence stifled seems my heart.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">FAUST</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Foreboding angel that thou art!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">In the Dungeon</span></h3> + +<h4><i>In a niche of the wall a shrine, with an image of the Mater Dolorosa. +Pots of flowers before it</i></h4> + +<p class="center">MARGARET<br /> +[<i>Putting fresh flowers in the pots</i>]</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i5">Incline, O Maiden,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Thou sorrow-laden,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy gracious countenance upon my pain!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i5">The sword thy heart in,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">With anguish smarting,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou lookest up to where thy Son is slain!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i5">Thou seest the Father;<br /></span> +<span class="i5">The sad sighs gather,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bear aloft thy sorrow and his pain!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i5">Ah, past guessing,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Beyond expressing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pangs that wring my flesh and bone!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Why this anxious heart so burneth,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Why it trembleth, why it yearneth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Knowest thou, and thou alone!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">Where'er I go, what sorrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">What woe, what woe and sorrow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Within my bosom aches!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Alone, and ah! unsleeping,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I'm weeping, weeping, weeping,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The heart within me breaks.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">The pots before my window,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Alas! my tears did wet,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As in the early morning<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For thee these flowers I set.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 6406]</a></span><span class="i1">Within my lonely chamber<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The morning sun shone red:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I sat in utter sorrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Already on my bed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Help! rescue me from death and stain!<br /></span> +<span class="i7">O Maiden!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Thou sorrow-laden,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Incline thy countenance upon my pain!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">IN THE DUNGEON</p> + +<p class="center">FAUST</p> + +<p class="center"><i>With a bunch of keys and a lamp, before an iron door</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A shudder, long unfelt, comes o'er me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mankind's collected woe o'erwhelms me here.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She dwells within the dark, damp walls before me,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And all her crime was a delusion dear!<br /></span> +<span class="i5">What! I delay to free her?<br /></span> +<span class="i5">I dread, once again to see her?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On! my shrinking but lingers Death more near.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">[<i>He grasps the lock: the sound of singing is heard inside.</i>]</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4"><i>My mother the harlot,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i5"><i>Who put me to death;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>My father the varlet,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i5"><i>Who eaten me hath!</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>Little sister, so good,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>Laid my bones in the wood,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i3"><i>In the damp moss and clay:</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Then was I a beautiful bird o' the wood:</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>Fly away! Fly away!</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">FAUST [<i>unlocking</i>]</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">She does not dream her lover listens near;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That he the rattling chain, the rustling straw, can hear.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">MARGARET [<i>hiding herself on the pallet</i>]</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Woe! woe! They come. O death of bitterness!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">FAUST [<i>whispering</i>]</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hush! hush! The hour is come that frees thee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 6407]</a></span></p> +<p class="center">MARGARET [<i>throwing herself before him</i>]</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Art thou a man? then pity my distress!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">FAUST</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy cries will wake the guards, and they will seize thee!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>He takes hold of the fetters to unlock them.</i></p> + +<p class="center">MARGARET [<i>on her knees</i>]</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who, headsman! unto thee such power<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Over me could give?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou'rt come for me at midnight hour:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Have mercy on me; let me live!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is't not soon enough when morning chime has rung? [<i>She rises.</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">And I am yet so young, so young!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And now death comes, and ruin!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I, too, was fair, and that was my undoing.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My love was near, but now he's far;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Torn lies the wreath, scattered the blossoms are.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Seize me not thus so violently!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Spare me! What have I done to thee?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Let me not vainly entreat thee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I never chanced, in all my days, to meet thee!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">FAUST</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Shall I outlive this misery?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">MARGARET</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">Now am I wholly in thy might.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">But let me suckle, first, my baby!<br /></span> +<span class="i3">I blissed it all this livelong night;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">They took 't away, to vex me, maybe,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And now they say I killed the child outright.<br /></span> +<span class="i5">And never shall I be glad again.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They sing songs about me! 'tis bad of the folk to do it!<br /></span> +<span class="i3">There's an old story has the same refrain;<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Who bade them so construe it?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">FAUST [<i>falling upon his knees</i>]</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here lieth one who loves thee ever,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The thraldom of thy woe to sever.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 6408]</a></span></p> + +<p class="center">MARGARET [<i>flinging herself beside him</i>]</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh let us kneel, and call the saints to hide us!<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Under the steps beside us,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">The threshold under,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Hell heaves in thunder!<br /></span> +<span class="i5">The Evil One<br /></span> +<span class="i5">With terrible wrath<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Seeketh a path<br /></span> +<span class="i5">His prey to discover!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">FAUST [<i>aloud</i>]</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Margaret! Margaret!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">MARGARET [<i>attentively listening</i>]</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That was the voice of my lover!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">[<i>She springs to her feet: the fetters fall off</i>.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">Where is he? I heard him call me.<br /></span> +<span class="i3">I am free! No one shall enthrall me.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">To his neck will I fly,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">On his bosom lie!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the threshold he stood, and <i>Margaret!</i> calling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Midst of hell's howling and noises appalling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Midst of the wrathful, infernal derision,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I knew the sweet sound of the voice of the vision!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">FAUST</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis I!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">MARGARET</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis thou! O, say it once again!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">[<i>Clasping him.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis he! 'tis he! Where now is all my pain?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The anguish of the dungeon, and the chain?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis thou! Thou comest to save me,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">And I am saved!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Again the street I see<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Where first I looked on thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the garden, brightly blooming,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Where I and Martha wait thy coming.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">FAUST [<i>struggling to leave</i>]</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come! Come with me!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 70%;"> +<a name="PRISON" id="PRISON"></a> +<span class="caption"><i>FAUST AND MARGARET IN PRISON.</i></span> +<img src="images/prison.jpg" width="100%" alt="FAUST AND MARGARET IN PRISON." title="FAUST AND MARGARET IN PRISON." /> +<p class="center"><b>Photogravure from a Drawing by A. Leisen-Mayer.</b></p> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 6409]</a></span></p> + +<p class="center">MARGARET</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">Delay, now!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So fain I stay, when thou delayest!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">[<i>Caressing him.</i></p> + +<p class="center">FAUST</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">Away, now!<br /></span> +<span class="i3">If longer here thou stayest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We shall be made to dearly rue it.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">MARGARET</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">Kiss me!—canst no longer do it?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My friend, so short a time thou 'rt missing,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And hast unlearned thy kissing?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Why is my heart so anxious, on thy breast?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Where once a heaven thy glances did create me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A heaven thy loving words expressed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thou didst kiss as thou wouldst suffocate me—<br /></span> +<span class="i10">Kiss me!<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Or I'll kiss thee!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">[<i>She embraces him.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah, woe! thy lips are chill,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And still.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How changed in fashion<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy passion!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who has done me this ill?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">[<i>She turns away from him.</i></p> + +<p class="center">FAUST</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come, follow me! My darling, be more bold:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll clasp thee, soon, with warmth a thousandfold;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But follow now! 'Tis all I beg of thee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">MARGARET [<i>turning to him</i>]</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And is it thou? Thou, surely, certainly?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">FAUST</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis I! Come on!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">MARGARET</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10">Thou wilt unloose my chain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in thy lap wilt take me once again.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How comes it that thou dost not shrink from me?—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Say, dost thou know, my friend, whom thou mak'st free?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 6410]</a></span></p> + +<p class="center">FAUST</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come! come! The night already vanisheth.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">MARGARET</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">My mother have I put to death;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I've drowned the baby born to thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was it not given to thee and me?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thee, too!—'Tis thou! It scarcely true doth seem—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Give me thy hand! 'Tis not a dream!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy dear, dear hand!—But, ah, 'tis wet!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Why, wipe it off! Methinks that yet<br /></span> +<span class="i5">There's blood thereon.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Ah, God! what hast thou done?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Nay, sheathe thy sword at last!<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Do not affray me!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">FAUST</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, let the past be past!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thy words will slay me!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">MARGARET</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">No, no! Thou must outlive us.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now I'll tell thee the graves to give us:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou must begin to-morrow<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The work of sorrow!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The best place give to my mother,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then close at her side my brother,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And me a little away,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But not too very far, I pray!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And here, on my right breast, my baby lay!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nobody else will lie beside me!—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ah, within thine arms to hide me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That was a sweet and a gracious bliss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But no more, no more can I attain it!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I would force myself on thee and constrain it,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And it seems thou repellest my kiss:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And yet 'tis thou, so good, so kind to see!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">FAUST</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If thou feelest it is I, then come with me!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">MARGARET</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Out yonder?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 6411]</a></span></p> + +<p class="center">FAUST</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To freedom.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">MARGARET</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">If the grave is there,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Death lying in wait, then come!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">From here to eternal rest:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">No further step—no, no!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou goest away! O Henry, if I could go!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">FAUST</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou canst! Just will it! Open stands the door.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">MARGARET</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I dare not go: there's no hope any more.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why should I fly? They'll still my steps waylay!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is so wretched, forced to beg my living,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a bad conscience sharper misery giving!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is so wretched, to be strange, forsaken,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I'd still be followed and taken!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">FAUST</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I'll stay with thee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">MARGARET</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Be quick! Be quick!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Save thy perishing child!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Away! Follow the ridge<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Up by the brook,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Over the bridge,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Into the wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the left, where the plank is placed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the pool!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Seize it in haste!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis trying to rise,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis struggling still!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Save it! Save it!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">FAUST</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Recall thy wandering will!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One step, and thou art free at last!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">MARGARET</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">If the mountain we had only passed!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There sits my mother upon a stone,—<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 6412]</a></span><span class="i4">I feel an icy shiver!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There sits my mother upon a stone,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And her head is wagging ever.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She beckons, she nods not, her heavy head falls o'er;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She slept so long that she wakes no more.<br /></span> +<span class="i3">She slept, while we were caressing:<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Ah, those were the days of blessing!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">FAUST</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here words and prayers are nothing worth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll venture, then, to bear thee forth.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">MARGARET</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No—let me go! I'll suffer no force!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grasp me not so murderously!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I've done, else, all things for the love of thee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">FAUST</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The day dawns: Dearest! Dearest!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">MARGARET</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Day? Yes, the day comes,—the last day breaks for me!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">My wedding day it was to be!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Tell no one thou hast been with Margaret!<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Woe for my garland! The chances<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Are over—'tis all in vain!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">We shall meet once again,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">But not at the dances!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The crowd is thronging, no word is spoken:<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The square below<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And the streets overflow:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The death-bell tolls, the wand is broken.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I am seized, and bound, and delivered—<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Shoved to the block—they give the sign!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Now over each neck has quivered<br /></span> +<span class="i3">The blade that is quivering over mine.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Dumb lies the world like the grave!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">FAUST</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, had I ne'er been born!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">MEPHISTOPHELES [<i>appears outside</i>]</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Off! or you're lost ere morn.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Useless talking, delaying, and praying!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 6413]</a></span><span class="i0">My horses are neighing:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The morning twilight is near.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">MARGARET</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What rises up from the threshold here?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He! he! suffer him not!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What does he want in this holy spot?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He seeks me!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">FAUST</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou shalt live.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">MARGARET</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Judgment of God! myself to thee I give.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">MEPHISTOPHELES [<i>to Faust</i>]</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come! or I'll leave her in the lurch, and thee!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">MARGARET</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thine am I, Father! rescue me!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye angels, holy cohorts, guard me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Camp around, and from evil ward me!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Henry! I shudder to think of thee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">MEPHISTOPHELES</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She is judged!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">VOICE [<i>from above</i>]</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She is saved!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">MEPHISTOPHELES [<i>to Faust</i>]</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hither to me!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">[<i>He disappears with Faust.</i></p> + +<p class="center">VOICE [<i>from within, dying away</i>]</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Henry! Henry!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 6414]</a></span></p> + +<h3><span class="smcap">The Death of Foust</span></h3> + +<p class="center">LEMURES<br /> + +[<i>Digging with mocking gestures</i>]</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In youth when I did love, did love,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Methought it was very sweet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When 'twas jolly and merry every way,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And I blithely moved my feet.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But now old Age, with his stealing steps,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Hath clawed me with his crutch:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I stumbled over the door of a grave;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Why leave they open such?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">FAUST<br /> + +[<i>Comes forth from the palace, groping his way along the door-posts</i>]</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How I rejoice to hear the clattering spade!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">It is the crowd, for me in service moiling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till Earth be reconciled to toiling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till the proud waves be stayed,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the sea girded with a rigid zone.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">MEPHISTOPHELES [<i>aside</i>]</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And yet thou'rt laboring for us alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With all thy dikes and bulwarks daring;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Since thou for Neptune art preparing—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Ocean Devil—carousal great.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In every way shall ye be stranded;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The elements with us are banded,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ruin is the certain fate.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">FAUST</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Overseer!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">MEPHISTOPHELES</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">Here!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">FAUST</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">However possible,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Collect a crowd of men with vigor,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Spur by indulgence, praise, or rigor,—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Reward, allure, conscript, compel!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each day report me, and correctly note<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How grows in length the undertaken moat.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 6415]</a></span></p> + +<p class="center">MEPHISTOPHELES [<i>half aloud</i>]</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When they to me the information gave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They spake not of a moat, but of—<i>a grave</i>.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">FAUST</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">Below the hills a marshy plain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Infects what I so long have been retrieving;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">This stagnant pool likewise to drain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were now my latest and my best achieving.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To many millions let me furnish soil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though not secure, yet free to active toil;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Green, fertile fields, where men and herds go forth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At once, with comfort, on the newest earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And swiftly settled on the hill's firm base,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Created by the bold, industrious race.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A land like Paradise here, round about;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up to the brink the tide may roar without,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And though it gnaw, to burst with force the limit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By common impulse all unite to hem it.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yes! to this thought I hold with firm persistence;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The last result of wisdom stamps it true:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He only earns his freedom and existence<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Who daily conquers them anew.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus here, by dangers girt, shall glide away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of childhood, manhood, age, the vigorous day:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And such a throng I fain would see,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stand on free soil among a people free!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then dared I hail the Moment fleeing:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">"<i>Ah, still delay—thou art so fair!</i>"<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>The traces cannot, of mine earthly being,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i1"><i>In æons perish,—they are there!</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>In proud fore-feeling of such lofty bliss,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>I now enjoy the highest Moment,—this!</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">[<i>Faust sinks back: the Lemures take him and lay him upon the ground.</i>]</p> + +<p class="center">MEPHISTOPHELES</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No joy could sate him, and suffice no bliss!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To catch but shifting shapes was his endeavor:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The latest, poorest, emptiest Moment—this,—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">He wished to hold it fast forever.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Me he resisted in such vigorous wise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Time is lord, on earth the old man lies.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The clock stands still—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 6416]</a></span></p> + +<p class="center">CHORUS</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">Stands still! silent as midnight, now!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The index falls.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">MEPHISTOPHELES</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It falls; and it is finished, here!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">CHORUS</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis past!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">MEPHISTOPHELES</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">Past! a stupid word.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">If past, then why?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Past and pure Naught, complete monotony!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What good for us, this endlessly creating?—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What is created then annihilating?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"And now it's past!" Why read a page so twisted?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis just the same as if it ne'er existed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet goes in circles round as if it had, however:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'd rather choose, instead, the Void forever.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">The Salvation of Faust</span></h3> + +<p class="center">ANGELS<br /> + +[<i>Soaring in the higher atmosphere, bearing the immortal part of Faust</i>]</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The noble spirit now is free,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And saved from evil scheming:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whoe'er aspires unweariedly<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Is not beyond redeeming.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if he feels the grace of love<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That from on high is given,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The blessed hosts, that wait above,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Shall welcome him to heaven!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">THE YOUNGER ANGELS</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They, the roses, freely spended<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the penitent, the glorious,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Helped to make the fight victorious,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the lofty work is ended.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We this precious soul have won us;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Evil ones we forced to shun us;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 6417]</a></span><span class="i0">Devils fled us when we hit them:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Stead of pangs of hell, that bit them,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love pangs felt they, sharper, vaster:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even he, old Satan Master,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pierced with keenest pain retreated.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now rejoice! The work's completed!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">THE MORE PERFECT ANGELS</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Earth's residue to bear<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Hath sorely pressed us;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It were not pure and fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Though 'twere asbestus.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When every element<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The mind's high forces<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have seized, subdued, and blent,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">No angel divorces<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Twin natures single grown,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That inly mate them:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eternal love alone<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Can separate them.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">THE YOUNGER ANGELS</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Mist-like on heights above,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">We now are seeing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nearer and nearer move<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Spiritual Being.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The clouds are growing clear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And moving throngs appear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of blessed boys,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Free from the earthly gloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In circling poise,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Who taste the cheer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the new springtime bloom<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of the upper sphere.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let them inaugurate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Him to the perfect state,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Now, as their peer!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">THE BLESSED BOYS</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Gladly receive we now<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Him, as a chrysalis:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Therefore achieve we now<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Pledge of our bliss.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 6418]</a></span><span class="i0">The earth-flakes dissipate<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That cling around him!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See, he is fair and great!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Divine Life hath crowned him.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">DOCTOR MARIANUS<br /> + +[<i>In the highest, purest cell</i>]</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Free is the view at last,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The spirit lifted:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There women, floating past,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Are upward drifted:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Glorious One therein,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With star-crown tender,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pure, the Heavenly Queen,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I know her splendor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">[<i>Enraptured</i>]</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Highest Mistress of the World!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Let me in the azure<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tent of Heaven, in light unfurled,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Here thy Mystery measure!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Justify sweet thoughts that move<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Breast of man to meet thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with holy bliss of love<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Bear him up to greet thee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With unconquered courage we<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Do thy bidding highest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But at once shall gentle be,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When thou pacifiest.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Virgin, pure in brightest sheen,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Mother sweet, supernal,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unto us Elected Queen,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Peer of Gods Eternal!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Light clouds are circling<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Around her splendor,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Penitent women<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Of natures tender,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her knees embracing,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Ether respiring,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Mercy requiring!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou, in immaculate ray,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Mercy not leavest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the lightly led astray,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Who trust thee, receivest!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 6419]</a></span><span class="i0">In their weakness fallen at length,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Hard it is to save them:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who can crush, by native strength,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Vices that enslave them?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose the foot that may not slip<br /></span> +<span class="i1">On the surface slanting?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom befool not eye and lip,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Breath and voice enchanting?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>The</i> Mater Gloriosa <i>soars into the space</i></p> + +<p class="center">CHORUS OF WOMEN PENITENTS</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To heights thou'rt speeding<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of endless Eden:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Receive our pleading,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Transcendent Maiden,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With mercy laden!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Magna Peccatrix</span> [<i>St. Luke</i>, vii. 36]</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">By the love before him kneeling,—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Him, thy Son, a Godlike vision;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the tears like balsam stealing,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Spite of Pharisees' derision;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the box, whose ointment precious<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Shed its spice and odors cheery;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the locks, whose softest meshes<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Dried the holy feet and weary!—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">MULIER SAMARITANA [<i>St. John</i>, iv.]</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">By that well, the ancient station<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Whither Abram's flocks were driven;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the jar, whose restoration<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To the Savior's lips was given;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the fountain pure and vernal,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thence its present bounty spending,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Overflowing, bright, eternal,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Watering the worlds unending!—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">MARIA ÆGYPTIACA [<i>Acta Sanctorum</i>]</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">By the place where the immortal<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Body of the Lord hath lain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the arm which, from the portal,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Warning, thrust me back again;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the forty years' repentance<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In the lonely desert land;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 6420]</a></span><span class="i0">By the blissful farewell sentence<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Which I wrote upon the sand!—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">THE THREE</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou thy presence not deniest<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Unto sinful women ever,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Liftest them to win the highest<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Gain of penitent endeavor,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So, from this good soul withdraw not—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Who but once forgot, transgressing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who her loving error saw not—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Pardon adequate, and blessing!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">UNA PŒNITENTIUM<br /> + +[<i>Formerly named Margaret, stealing closer</i>]</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i5">Incline, O Maiden,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">With mercy laden,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">In light unfading,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy gracious countenance upon my bliss!<br /></span> +<span class="i5">My loved, my lover,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">His trials over<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In yonder world, returns to me in this!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">BLESSED BOYS<br /> + +[<i>Approaching in hovering circles</i>]</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With mighty limbs he towers<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Already above us;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He, for this love of ours,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Will richlier love us.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Early were we removed,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Ere Life could reach us;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet he hath learned and proved,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And he will teach us.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">THE PENITENT<br /> + +[<i>Formerly named Margaret</i>]</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The spirit choir around him seeing,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">New to himself, he scarce divines<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His heritage of new-born Being,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When like the Holy Host he shines.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Behold, how he each band hath cloven<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The earthly life had round him thrown,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 6421]</a></span><span class="i0">And through his garb, of ether woven,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The early force of youth is shown!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vouchsafe to me that I instruct him!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Still dazzles him the Day's new glare.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">MATER GLORIOSA</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Rise thou to higher spheres! Conduct him,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Who, feeling thee, shall follow there!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">DOCTOR MARIANUS<br /> + +[<i>Prostrate, adoring</i>]</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Penitents, look up, elate.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Where she beams salvation;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gratefully to blessed fate<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Grow, in re-creation!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be our souls, as they have been,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Dedicate to thee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Virgin Holy, Mother, Queen,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Goddess, gracious be!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">CHORUS MYSTICUS</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All things transitory<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But as symbols are sent:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Earth's insufficiency<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Here grows to Event:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Indescribable,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Here it is done:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Woman Soul leadeth us<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Upward and on!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="MIGNONS_LOVE_AND_LONGING" id="MIGNONS_LOVE_AND_LONGING"></a>MIGNON'S LOVE AND LONGING</h3> + +<h4>From 'Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship.' Carlyle's Translation</h4> + + +<p>Nothing is more touching than the first disclosure of a love +which has been nursed in silence; of a faith grown strong +in secret, and which at last comes forth in the hour of +need and reveals itself to him who formerly has reckoned it of +small account. The bud which had been closed so long and +firmly was now ripe to burst its swathings, and Wilhelm's heart +could never have been readier to welcome the impressions of +affection.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 6422]</a></span></p> + +<p>She stood before him, and noticed his disquietude. "Master!" +she cried, "if thou art unhappy, what will become of Mignon?" +"Dear little creature," said he, taking her hands, "thou too art +part of my anxieties. I must go hence." She looked at his eyes, +glistening with restrained tears, and knelt down with vehemence +before him. He kept her hands; she laid her head upon his +knees, and remained quite still. He played with her hair, patted +her, and spoke kindly to her. She continued motionless for a +considerable time. At last he felt a sort of palpitating movement +in her, which began very softly, and then by degrees, with increasing +violence, diffused itself over all her frame. "What ails +thee, Mignon?" cried he; "what ails thee?" She raised her little +head, looked at him, and all at once laid her hand upon her +heart, with the countenance of one repressing the utterance of +pain. He raised her up, and she fell upon his breast; he pressed +her towards him, and kissed her. She replied not by any pressure +of the hand, by any motion whatever. She held firmly +against her heart; and all at once gave a cry, which was accompanied +by spasmodic movements of the body. She started up, +and immediately fell down before him, as if broken in every +joint. It was an excruciating moment! "My child!" cried he, +raising her up and clasping her fast,—"my child, what ails thee?" +The palpitations continued, spreading from the heart over all the +lax and powerless limbs; she was merely hanging in his arms. +All at once she again became quite stiff, like one enduring the +sharpest corporeal agony; and soon with a new vehemence all +her frame once more became alive, and she threw herself about +his neck, like a bent spring that is closing; while in her soul, as +it were, a strong rent took place, and at the same moment a +stream of tears flowed from her shut eyes into his bosom. He +held her fast. She wept, and no tongue can express the force +of these tears. Her long hair had loosened, and was hanging +down before her; it seemed as if her whole being was melting +incessantly into a brook of tears. Her rigid limbs were again +become relaxed; her inmost soul was pouring itself forth; in the +wild confusion of the moment, Wilhelm was afraid she would +dissolve in his arms, and leave nothing there for him to grasp. +He held her faster and faster. "My child!" cried he, "my child! +thou art indeed mine, if that word can comfort thee. Thou art +mine! I will keep thee, I will never forsake thee!" Her tears +continued flowing. At last she raised herself; a faint gladness +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 6423]</a></span> +shone upon her face. "My father!" cried she, "thou wilt not +forsake me? Wilt be my father? I am thy child!"</p> + +<p>Softly, at this moment, the harp began to sound before the +door; the old man brought his most affecting songs as an evening +offering to our friend, who, holding his child ever faster in +his arms, enjoyed the most pure and undescribable felicity.</p> + +<hr style='width: 15%;' /> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Know'st thou the land where citron-apples bloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And oranges like gold in leafy gloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A gentle wind from deep-blue heaven blows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The myrtle thick, and high the laurel grows?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Know'st thou it then?<br /></span> +<span class="i12">'Tis there! Tis there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O my true loved one, thou with me must go!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Know'st thou the house, its porch with pillars tall?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rooms do glitter, glitters bright the hall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And marble statues stand, and look each one:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What's this, poor child, to thee they've done?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Know'st thou it then?<br /></span> +<span class="i12">'Tis there! 'Tis there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O my protector, thou with me must go!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Know'st thou the hill, the bridge that hangs on cloud?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mules in mist grope o'er the torrent loud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In caves lie coiled the dragon's ancient brood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The crag leaps down, and over it the flood:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Know'st thou it then?<br /></span> +<span class="i12">'Tis there! 'Tis there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our way runs: O my father, wilt thou go?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Next morning, on looking for Mignon about the house, Wilhelm +did not find her, but was informed that she had gone out +early with Melina, who had risen betimes to receive the wardrobe +and other apparatus of his theatre.</p> + +<p>After the space of some hours, Wilhelm heard the sound of +music before his door. At first he thought it was the harper +come again to visit him; but he soon distinguished the tones of +a cithern, and the voice which began to sing was Mignon's. +Wilhelm opened the door; the child came in, and sang him the +song we have just given above.</p> + +<p>The music and general expression of it pleased our friend +extremely, though he could not understand all the words. He +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 6424]</a></span> +made her once more repeat the stanzas, and explain them; he +wrote them down, and translated them into his native language. +But the originality of its turns he could imitate only from afar: +its childlike innocence of expression vanished from it in the process +of reducing its broken phraseology to uniformity, and combining +its disjointed parts. The charm of the tune, moreover, +was entirely incomparable.</p> + +<p>She began every verse in a stately and solemn manner, as if +she wished to draw attention towards something wonderful, as if +she had something weighty to communicate. In the third line, her +tones became deeper and gloomier; the "Know'st thou it then?" +was uttered with a show of mystery and eager circumspectness; +in the "'Tis there! 'Tis there!" lay a boundless longing; and her +"With me must go!" she modified at each repetition, so that now +it appeared to entreat and implore, now to impel and persuade.</p> + +<p>On finishing her song for the second time, she stood silent for +a moment, looked keenly at Wilhelm, and asked him, "<i>Know'st</i> +thou the land?" "It must mean Italy," said Wilhelm: "where +didst thou get the little song?" "Italy!" said Mignon, with an +earnest air. "If thou go to Italy, take me along with thee; for +I am too cold here." "Hast thou been there already, little +dear?" said Wilhelm. But the child was silent, and nothing more +could be got out of her.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="WILHELM_MEISTERS_INTRODUCTION_TO_SHAKESPEARE" id="WILHELM_MEISTERS_INTRODUCTION_TO_SHAKESPEARE"></a>WILHELM MEISTER'S INTRODUCTION TO SHAKESPEARE</h3> + +<h4>From 'Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship.' Carlyle's Translation</h4> + + +<p>"Have you never," said Jarno, taking him aside, "read one of +Shakespeare's plays?"</p> + +<p>"No," replied Wilhelm: "since the time when they became +more known in Germany, I have myself grown unacquainted +with the theatre; and I know not whether I should now rejoice +that an old taste and occupation of my youth, has been by +chance renewed. In the mean time, all that I have heard of +these plays has excited little wish to become acquainted with +such extraordinary monsters, which appear to set probability and +dignity alike at defiance."</p> + +<p>"I would advise you," said the other, "to make a trial, notwithstanding: +it can do one no harm to look at what is extraordinary +with one's own eyes. I will lend you a volume or two; and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 6425]</a></span> +you cannot better spend your time than by casting everything +aside, and retiring to the solitude of your old habitation, to look +into the magic lantern of that unknown world. It is sinful of +you to waste your hours in dressing out these apes to look more +human, and teaching dogs to dance. One thing only I require,—you +must not cavil at the form; the rest I can leave to your +own good sense and feeling."</p> + +<p>The horses were standing at the door; and Jarno mounted +with some other cavaliers, to go and hunt. Wilhelm looked after +him with sadness. He would fain have spoken much with this +man who though in a harsh, unfriendly way, gave him new +ideas,—ideas that he had need of.</p> + +<p>Oftentimes a man, when approaching some development of his +powers, capacities, and conceptions, gets into a perplexity from +which a prudent friend might easily deliver him. He resembles +a traveler, who, at but a short distance from the inn he is to +rest at, falls into the water: were any one to catch him then +and pull him to the bank, with one good wetting it were over; +whereas, though he struggles out himself, it is often at the side +where he tumbled in, and he has to make a wide and weary circuit +before reaching his appointed object.</p> + +<p>Wilhelm now began to have an inkling that things went forward +in the world differently from what he had supposed. He +now viewed close at hand the solemn and imposing life of the +great and distinguished, and wondered at the easy dignity which +they contrived to give it. An army on its march, a princely +hero at the head of it, such a multitude of co-operating warriors, +such a multitude of crowding worshipers, exalted his imagination. +In this mood he received the promised books; and ere long, as +may be easily supposed, the stream of that mighty genius laid +hold of him and led him down to a shoreless ocean, where he +soon completely forgot and lost himself....</p> + +<p>Wilhelm had scarcely read one or two of Shakespeare's plays, +till their effect on him became so strong that he could go no +further. His whole soul was in commotion. He sought an +opportunity to speak with Jarno; to whom, on meeting with him, +he expressed his boundless gratitude for such delicious entertainment.</p> + +<p>"I clearly enough foresaw," said Jarno, "that you would not +remain insensible to the charms of the most extraordinary and +most admirable of all writers."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 6426]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes!" exclaimed our friend: "I cannot recollect that any +book, any man, any incident of my life, has produced such important +effects on me, as the precious works to which by your +kindness I have been directed. They seem as if they were performances +of some celestial genius descending among men, to +make them by the mildest instructions acquainted with themselves. +They are no fictions! You would think, while reading +them, you stood before the inclosed awful Books of Fate, while +the whirlwind of most impassioned life was howling through the +leaves, and tossing them fiercely to and fro. The strength and +tenderness, the power and peacefulness of this man, have so +astonished and transported me, that I long vehemently for the +time when I shall have it in my power to read further."</p> + +<p>"Bravo!" said Jarno, holding out his hand, and squeezing our +friend's. "This is as it should be! And the consequences which +I hope for will likewise surely follow."</p> + +<p>"I wish," said Wilhelm, "I could but disclose to you all that +is going on within me even now. All the anticipations I have +ever had regarding man and his destiny, which have accompanied +me from youth upwards often unobserved by myself, I find developed +and fulfilled in Shakespeare's writings. It seems as if +he cleared up every one of our enigmas to us, though we cannot +say, Here or there is the word of solution. His men appear +like natural men, and yet they are not. These, the most mysterious +and complex productions of creation, here act before us as +if they were watches, whose dial-plates and cases were of crystal, +which pointed out according to their use the course of the hours +and minutes; while at the same time you could discern the combination +of wheels and springs that turn them. The few glances +I have cast over Shakespeare's world incite me, more than anything +beside, to quicken my footsteps forward into the actual +world, to mingle in the flood of destinies that is suspended over +it; and at length, if I shall prosper, to draw a few cups from +the great ocean of true nature, and to distribute them from off +the stage among the thirsting people of my native land."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 6427]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="WILHELM_MEISTERS_ANALYSIS_OF_HAMLET" id="WILHELM_MEISTERS_ANALYSIS_OF_HAMLET"></a>WILHELM MEISTER'S ANALYSIS OF HAMLET</h3> + +<h4>From 'Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship'</h4> + +<p>Seeing the company so favorably disposed, Wilhelm now hoped +he might further have it in his power to converse with them +on the poetic merit of the pieces which might come before +them. "It is not enough," said he next day, when they were +all again assembled, "for the actor merely to glance over a dramatic +work, to judge of it by his first impression, and thus without +investigation to declare his satisfaction or dissatisfaction with +it. Such things may be allowed in a spectator, whose purpose it +is rather to be entertained and moved than formally to criticize. +But the actor, on the other hand, should be prepared to give a +reason for his praise or censure: and how shall he do this if he +have not taught himself to penetrate the sense, the views, and +feelings of his author? A common error is, to form a judgment +of a drama from a single part in it; and to look upon this part +itself in an isolated point of view, not in its connection with the +whole. I have noticed this within a few days so clearly in my +own conduct, that I will give you the account as an example, if +you please to hear me patiently.</p> + +<p>"You all know Shakespeare's incomparable 'Hamlet': our +public reading of it at the Castle yielded every one of us the +greatest satisfaction. On that occasion we proposed to act the +piece; and I, not knowing what I undertook, engaged to play +the Prince's part. This I conceived that I was studying, while +I began to get by heart the strongest passages, the soliloquies, +and those scenes in which force of soul, vehemence, and elevation +of feeling have the freest scope; where the agitated heart is +allowed to display itself with touching expressiveness.</p> + +<p>"I further conceived that I was penetrating quite into the +spirit of the character, while I endeavored as it were to take +upon myself the load of deep melancholy under which my prototype +was laboring, and in this humor to pursue him through the +strange labyrinths of his caprices and his singularities. Thus +learning, thus practicing, I doubted not but I should by-and-by +become one person with my hero.</p> + +<p>"But the farther I advanced, the more difficult did it become +for me to form any image of the whole, in its general bearings; +till at last it seemed as if impossible. I next went through the +entire piece, without interruption; but here too I found much +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 6428]</a></span> +that I could not away with. At one time the characters, at +another time the manner of displaying them, seemed inconsistent; +and I almost despaired of finding any general tint, in which I +might present my whole part with all its shadings and variations. +In such devious paths I toiled, and wandered long in +vain; till at length a hope arose that I might reach my aim in +quite a new way.</p> + +<p>"I set about investigating every trace of Hamlet's character, +as it had shown itself before his father's death: I endeavored to +distinguish what in it was independent of this mournful event; +independent of the terrible events that followed; and what most +probably the young man would have been, had no such thing +occurred.</p> + +<p>"Soft, and from a noble stem, this royal flower had sprung +up under the immediate influences of majesty; the idea of moral +rectitude with that of princely elevation, the feeling of the good +and dignified with the consciousness of high birth, had in him +been unfolded simultaneously. He was a prince, by birth a +prince; and he wished to reign, only that good men might be +good without obstruction. Pleasing in form, polished by nature, +courteous from the heart, he was meant to be the pattern of +youth and the joy of the world.</p> + +<p>"Without any prominent passion, his love for Ophelia was a +still presentiment of sweet wants. His zeal in knightly accomplishments +was not entirely his own; it needed to be quickened +and inflamed by praise bestowed on others for excelling in them. +Pure in sentiment, he knew the honorable-minded, and could +prize the rest which an upright spirit tastes on the bosom of a +friend. To a certain degree, he had learned to discern and value +the good and the beautiful in arts and sciences; the mean, the +vulgar was offensive to him: and if hatred could take root in his +tender soul, it was only so far as to make him properly despise +the false and changeful insects of a court, and play with them +in easy scorn. He was calm in his temper, artless in his conduct, +neither pleased with idleness nor too violently eager for +employment. The routine of a university he seemed to continue +when at court. He possessed more mirth of humor than of +heart; he was a good companion, pliant, courteous, discreet, and +able to forget and forgive an injury, yet never able to unite +himself with those who overstept the limits of the right, the +good, and the becoming.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 6429]</a></span></p> + +<p>"When we read the piece again, you shall judge whether I +am yet on the proper track. I hope at least to bring forward +passages that shall support my opinion in its main points."</p> + +<p>This delineation was received with warm approval; the company +imagined they foresaw that Hamlet's manner of proceeding +might now be very satisfactorily explained; they applauded this +method of penetrating into the spirit of a writer. Each of them +proposed to himself to take up some piece, and study it on these +principles, and so unfold the author's meaning ....</p> + +<p>Loving Shakespeare as our friend did, he failed not to lead +round the conversation to the merits of that dramatist. Expressing, +as he entertained, the liveliest hopes of the new epoch +which these exquisite productions must form in Germany, he ere +long introduced his 'Hamlet,' who had busied him so much of +late.</p> + +<p>Serlo declared that he would long ago have played the piece, +had this been possible, and that he himself would willingly engage +to act Polonius. He added with a smile, "An Ophelia too +will certainly turn up, if we had but a Prince."</p> + +<p>Wilhelm did not notice that Aurelia seemed a little hurt at +her brother's sarcasm. Our friend was in his proper vein, becoming +copious and didactic, expounding how he would have +'Hamlet' played. He circumstantially delivered to his hearers +the opinions we before saw him busied with; taking all the +trouble possible to make his notion of the matter acceptable, +skeptical as Serlo showed himself regarding it. "Well then," said +the latter finally, "suppose we grant you all this, what will you +explain by it?"</p> + +<p>"Much, everything," said Wilhelm. "Conceive a prince such +as I have painted him, and that his father suddenly dies. Ambition +and the love of rule are not the passions that inspire him. +As a king's son, he would have been contented; but now he is +first constrained to consider the difference which separates a sovereign +from a subject. The crown was not hereditary; yet a +longer possession of it by his father would have strengthened the +pretensions of an only son, and secured his hopes of the succession. +In place of this, he now beholds himself excluded by his +uncle, in spite of specious promises, most probably forever. He +is now poor in goods and favor, and a stranger in the scene +which from youth he had looked upon as his inheritance. His +temper here assumes its first mournful tinge. He feels that now +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 6430]</a></span> +he is not more, that he is less, than a private nobleman; he +offers himself as the servant of every one; he is not courteous +and condescending, he is needy and degraded.</p> + +<p>"His past condition he remembers as a vanished dream. It +is in vain that his uncle strives to cheer him, to present his situation +in another point of view. The feeling of his nothingness +will not leave him.</p> + +<p>"The second stroke that came upon him wounded deeper, +bowed still more. It was the marriage of his mother. The +faithful tender son had yet a mother, when his father passed +away. He hoped in the company of his surviving, noble-minded +parent, to reverence the heroic form of the departed; but his +mother too he loses, and it is something worse than death that +robs him of her. The trustful image which a good child loves +to form of its parents is gone. With the dead there is no help; +on the living no hold. She also is a woman, and her name is +Frailty, like that of all her sex.</p> + +<p>"Now first does he feel himself completely bent and orphaned; +and no happiness of life can repay what he has lost. Not reflective +or sorrowful by nature, reflection and sorrow have become +for him a heavy obligation. It is thus that we see him first enter +on the scene. I do not think that I have mixed aught foreign +with the piece, or overcharged a single feature of it."</p> + +<p>Serlo looked at his sister and said, "Did I give thee a false +picture of our friend? He begins well; he has still many things +to tell us, many to persuade us of." Wilhelm asseverated loudly +that he meant not to persuade but to convince; he begged for +another moment's patience.</p> + +<p>"Figure to yourselves this youth," cried he, "this son of +princes; conceive him vividly, bring his state before your eyes, +and then observe him when he learns that his father's spirit +walks; stand by him in the terrors of the night, when the venerable +ghost itself appears before him. A horrid shudder passes +over him; he speaks to the mysterious form; he sees it beckon +him; he follows it, and hears. The fearful accusation of his +uncle rings in his ears; the summons to revenge, and the piercing +oft-repeated prayer, Remember me!</p> + +<p>"And when the ghost has vanished, who is it that stands before +us? A young hero panting for vengeance? A prince by +birth, rejoicing to be called to punish the usurper of his crown? +No! trouble and astonishment take hold of the solitary young +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 6431]</a></span> +man; he grows bitter against smiling villains, swears that he will +not forget the spirit, and concludes with the significant ejaculation:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'The time is out of joint: O cursed spite,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That ever I was born to set it right!'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"In these words, I imagine, will be found the key to Hamlet's +whole procedure. To me it is clear that Shakespeare meant, in +the present case, to represent the effects of a great action laid +upon a soul unfit for the performance of it. In this view the +whole piece seems to me to be composed. There is an oak-tree +planted in a costly jar, which should have borne only pleasant +flowers in its bosom; the roots expand, the jar is shivered.</p> + +<p>"A lovely, pure, noble, and most moral nature, without the +strength of nerve which forms a hero, sinks beneath a burden +which it cannot bear and must not cast away. All duties are +holy for him; the present is too hard. Impossibilities have been +required of him, not in themselves impossibilities, but such for +him. He winds, and turns, and torments himself; he advances +and recoils; is ever put in mind, ever puts himself in mind; at +last does all but lose his purpose from his thoughts; yet still +without recovering his peace of mind."</p> + +<p>Aurelia seemed to give but little heed to what was passing; +at last she conducted Wilhelm to another room, and going to the +window, and looking out at the starry sky she said to him, "You +have still much to tell us about Hamlet; I will not hurry you; +my brother must hear it as well as I; but let me beg to know +your thoughts about Ophelia."</p> + +<p>"Of her there cannot much be said," he answered; "for a few +master strokes complete her character. The whole being of +Ophelia floats in sweet and ripe sensation. Kindness for the +Prince, to whose hand she may aspire, flows so spontaneously, +her tender heart obeys its impulses so unresistingly, that both +father and brother are afraid; both give her warning harshly and +directly. Decorum, like the thin lawn upon her bosom, cannot +hide the soft, still movements of her heart; it on the contrary +betrays them. Her fancy is smit; her silent modesty breathes +amiable desire; and if the friendly goddess Opportunity should +shake the tree, its fruit would fall."</p> + +<p>"And then," said Aurelia, "when she beholds herself forsaken, +cast away, despised; when all is inverted in the soul of her crazed +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 6432]</a></span> +lover, and the highest changes to the lowest, and instead of the +sweet cup of love he offers her the bitter cup of woe—"</p> + +<p>"Her heart breaks," cried Wilhelm; "the whole structure of +her being is loosened from its joinings; her father's death strikes +fiercely against it; and the fair edifice altogether crumbles into +fragments...."</p> + +<p>Serlo, at this moment entering, inquired about his sister; and +looking in the book which our friend had hold of, cried, "So +you are again at 'Hamlet'? Very good! Many doubts have +arisen in me, which seem not a little to impair the canonical +aspect of the piece as you would have it viewed. The English +themselves have admitted that its chief interest concludes with +the third act; the last two lagging sorrily on, and scarcely uniting +with the rest: and certainly about the end it seems to stand +stock still."</p> + +<p>"It is very possible," said Wilhelm, "that some individuals of +a nation which has so many masterpieces to feel proud of, may +be led by prejudice and narrowness of mind to form false judgments; +but this cannot hinder us from looking with our own +eyes, and doing justice where we see it due. I am very far +from censuring the plan of 'Hamlet': on the other hand, I believe +there never was a grander one invented; nay, it is not +invented, it is real."</p> + +<p>"How do you demonstrate that?" inquired Serlo.</p> + +<p>"I will not demonstrate anything," said Wilhelm; "I will +merely show you what my own conceptions of it are."</p> + +<p>Aurelia rose up from her cushion, leaned upon her hand, and +looked at Wilhelm; who, with the firmest assurance that he was +in the right, went on as follows:—</p> + +<p>"It pleases us, it flatters us to see a hero acting on his own +strength; loving and hating as his heart directs him; undertaking +and completing; casting every obstacle aside; and at length +attaining some great object which he aimed at. Poets and historians +would willingly persuade us that so proud a lot may fall to +man. In 'Hamlet' we are taught another lesson: the hero is +without a plan, but the piece is full of plan. Here we have no +villain punished on some self-conceived and rigidly accomplished +scheme of vengeance: a horrid deed occurs; it rolls itself along +with all its consequences, dragging guiltless persons also in its +course; the perpetrator seems as if he would evade the abyss +which is made ready for him, yet he plunges in, at the very +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 6433]</a></span> +point by which he thinks he shall escape and happily complete +his course.</p> + +<p>"For it is the property of crime to extend its mischief over +innocence, as it is of virtue to extend its blessings over many +that deserve them not; while frequently the author of the one or +of the other is not punished or rewarded at all. Here in this +play of ours, how strange! The Pit of Darkness sends its spirit +and demands revenge; in vain! All circumstances tend one +way, and hurry to revenge; in vain! Neither earthly nor infernal +thing may bring about what is reserved for Fate alone. The +hour of judgment comes: the wicked falls with the good; one +race is mowed away, that another may spring up."</p> + +<p>After a pause, in which they looked at one another, Serlo +said: "You pay no great compliment to Providence, in thus +exalting Shakespeare; and besides, it appears to me that for the +honor of your poet, as others for the honor of Providence, you +ascribe to him an object and a plan which he himself had never +thought of."</p> + +<p>"Let me also put a question," said Aurelia. "I have looked +at Ophelia's part again; I am contented with it, and conceive +that under certain circumstances I could play it. But tell me, +should not the poet have furnished the insane maiden with +another sort of songs? Could not one select some fragments out +of melancholy ballads for this purpose? What have double +meanings and lascivious insipidities to do in the mouth of such a +noble-minded person?"</p> + +<p>"Dear friend," said Wilhelm, "even here I cannot yield you +one iota. In these singularities, in this apparent impropriety, a +deep sense is hid. Do we not understand from the very first +what the mind of the good soft-hearted girl was busied with? +Silently she lived within herself, yet she scarce concealed her +wishes, her longing; the tones of desire were in secret ringing +through her soul; and how often may she have attempted, like +an unskillful nurse, to lull her senses to repose with songs +which only kept them more awake? But at last, when her self-command +is altogether gone, when the secrets of her heart are +hovering on her tongue, that tongue betrays her; and in the +innocence of insanity she solaces herself, unmindful of king or +queen, with the echo of her loose and well-beloved songs, 'Tomorrow +is Saint Valentine's Day,' and 'By Gis and by Saint +Charity.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 6434]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I am much mistaken," cried he, "if I have not now discovered +how the whole is to be managed; nay, I am convinced +that Shakespeare himself would have arranged it so, had not +his mind been too exclusively directed to the ruling interest, and +perhaps misled by the novels which furnished him with his +materials."</p> + +<p>"Let us hear," said Serlo, placing himself with an air of +solemnity upon the sofa; "I will listen calmly, but judge with +rigor."</p> + +<p>"I am not afraid of you," said Wilhelm; "only hear me. In +the composition of this play, after the most accurate investigation +and the most mature reflection, I distinguish two classes of +objects. The first are the grand internal relations of the persons +and events, the powerful effects which arise from the characters +and proceedings of the main figures: these, I hold, are individually +excellent, and the order in which they are presented cannot +be improved. No kind of interference must be suffered to +destroy them, or even essentially to change their form. These +are the things which stamp themselves deep into the soul; +which all men long to see, which no one dares to meddle with. +Accordingly, I understand, they have almost wholly been retained +in all our German theatres.</p> + +<p>"But our countrymen have erred, in my opinion, with regard +to the second class of objects which may be observed in this +tragedy: I allude to the external relations of the persons, whereby +they are brought from place to place, or combined in various +ways by certain accidental incidents. These they have looked +upon as very unimportant; have spoken of them only in passing, +or left them out altogether. Now indeed it must be owned +that these threads are slack and slender; yet they run through +the entire piece, and bind together much that would otherwise +fall asunder, and does actually fall asunder when you cut them +off, and imagine you have done enough and more if you have +left the ends hanging.</p> + +<p>"Among these external relations I include the disturbances +in Norway, the war with young Fortinbras, the embassy to his +uncle, the settling of that feud, the march of young Fortinbras +to Poland, and his coming back at the end; of the same sort are +Horatio's return from Wittenberg, Hamlet's wish to go thither, +the journey of Laertes to France, his return, the dispatch of +Hamlet into England, his capture by pirates, the death of the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 6435]</a></span> +two courtiers by the letter which they carried. All these circumstances +and events would be very fit for expanding and lengthening +a novel; but here they injure exceedingly the unity of +the piece,—particularly as the hero had no plan,—and are in +consequence entirely out of place."</p> + +<p>"For once in the right!" cried Serlo.</p> + +<p>"Do not interrupt me," answered Wilhelm; "perhaps you +will not always think me right. These errors are like temporary +props of an edifice; they must not be removed till we have built +a firm wall in their stead. My project therefore is, not at all to +change those first-mentioned grand situations, or at least as much +as possible to spare them, both collectively and individually; but +with respect to these external, single, dissipated, and dissipating +motives, to cast them all at once away, and substitute a solitary +one instead of them."</p> + +<p>"And this?" inquired Serlo, springing up from his recumbent +posture.</p> + +<p>"It lies in the piece itself," answered Wilhelm, "only I employ +it rightly. There are disturbances in Norway. You shall +hear my plan and try it.</p> + +<p>"After the death of Hamlet the father, the Norwegians, lately +conquered, grow unruly. The viceroy of that country sends his +son Horatio, an old school friend of Hamlet's, and distinguished +above every other for his bravery and prudence, to Denmark, to +press forward the equipment of the fleet, which under the new +luxurious King proceeds but slowly. Horatio has known the +former King, having fought in his battles, having even stood in +favor with him; a circumstance by which the first ghost scene +will be nothing injured. The new sovereign gives Horatio audience, +and sends Laertes into Norway with intelligence that the +fleet will soon arrive, whilst Horatio is commissioned to accelerate +the preparation of it; and the Queen, on the other hand, will +not consent that Hamlet, as he wishes, should go to sea along +with him."</p> + +<p>"Heaven be praised!" cried Serlo; "we shall now get rid of +Wittenberg and the university, which was always a sorry piece +of business. I think your idea extremely good: for except these +two distant objects, Norway and the fleet, the spectator will not +be required to <i>fancy</i> anything: the rest he will <i>see</i>; the rest takes +place before him; whereas his imagination, on the other plan, was +hunted over all the world."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 6436]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You easily perceive," said Wilhelm, "how I shall contrive to +keep the other parts together. When Hamlet tells Horatio of +his uncle's crime, Horatio counsels him to go to Norway in his +company, to secure the affections of the army, and return in war-like +force. Hamlet also is becoming dangerous to the King and +Queen; they find no readier method of deliverance than to send +him in the fleet, with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern to be spies +upon him: and as Laertes in the mean time comes from France, +they determine that this youth, exasperated even to murder, +shall go after him. Unfavorable winds detain the fleet; Hamlet +returns: for his wandering through the church-yard perhaps some +lucky motive may be thought of; his meeting with Laertes in +Ophelia's grave is a grand moment, which we must not part +with. After this, the King resolves that it is better to get quit +of Hamlet on the spot: the festival of his departure, the pretended +reconcilement with Laertes, are now solemnized; on +which occasion knightly sports are held, and Laertes fights with +Hamlet. Without the four corpses I cannot end the piece; not +one of them can possibly be left. The right of popular election +now again comes in force, and Hamlet gives his dying voice for +Horatio."</p> + +<p>"Quick! quick!" said Serlo; "sit down and work the piece; +your plan has my entire approbation; only do not let your zeal +for it evaporate." ...</p> + +<p>Wilhelm had already been for some time busied with translating +Hamlet; making use, as he labored, of Wieland's spirited +performance, by means of which he had first become acquainted +with Shakespeare. What in Wieland's work had been omitted he +replaced; and he had at length procured himself a complete version, +at the very time when Serlo and he finally agreed about +the way of treating it. He now began, according to his plan, to +cut out and insert, to separate and unite, to alter and often to +restore; for satisfied as he was with his own conception, it still +appeared to him as if in executing it he were but spoiling the +original.</p> + +<p>So soon as all was finished, he read his work to Serlo and +the rest. They declared themselves exceedingly contented with +it; Serlo in particular made many flattering observations.</p> + +<p>"You have felt very justly," said he, among other things, +"that some external circumstances must accompany this piece; +but that they must be simpler than those which the great poet +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 6437]</a></span> +has employed. What takes place without the theatre—what the +spectator does not see, but must imagine for himself—is like a +background, in front of which the acting figures move. Your +large and simple prospect of the fleet and Norway will very +much improve the piece; if this were altogether taken from it, +we should have but a family scene remaining; and the great +idea, that here a kingly house by internal crimes and incongruities +goes down to ruin, would not be presented with its proper +dignity. But if the former background were left standing, so +manifold, so fluctuating and confused, it would hurt the impression +of the figures."</p> + +<p>Wilhelm again took Shakespeare's part: alleging that he wrote +for islanders, for Englishmen, who generally, in the distance, +were accustomed to see little else than ships and voyages, the +coast of France and privateers; and thus what perplexed and +distracted others was to them quite natural.</p> + +<p>Serlo assented; and both of them were of opinion that as the +piece was now to be produced upon the German stage, this more +serious and simple background was the best adapted for the German +mind.</p> + +<p>The parts had been distributed before: Serlo undertook Polonius; +Aurelia undertook Ophelia; Laertes was already designated +by his name; a young, thick-set, jolly new-comer was to be +Horatio; the King and the Ghost alone occasioned some perplexity. +For both of these was no one but Old Boisterous remaining. +Serlo proposed to make the Pedant King; but against this our +friend protested in the strongest terms. They could resolve on +nothing.</p> + +<p>Wilhelm also had allowed both Rosencrantz and Guildenstern +to continue in his piece. "Why not compress them into one?" +said Serlo. "This abbreviation will not cost you much."</p> + +<p>"Heaven keep me from such curtailments!" answered Wilhelm; +"they destroy at once the sense and the effect. What +these two persons are and do it is impossible to represent by +one. In such small matters we discover Shakespeare's greatness. +These soft approaches, this smirking and bowing, this assenting, +wheedling, flattering, this whisking agility, this wagging of the +tail, this allness and emptiness, this legal knavery, this ineptitude +and insipidity,—how can they be expressed by a single man? +There ought to be at least a dozen of these people if they could +be had, for it is only in society that they are anything; they are +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 6438]</a></span> +society itself; and Shakespeare showed no little wisdom and discernment +in bringing in a pair of them. Besides, I need them +as a couple that may be contrasted with the single, noble, excellent +Horatio."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="THE_INDENTURE" id="THE_INDENTURE"></a>THE INDENTURE</h3> + +<h4>From 'Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship'</h4> + +<p>Art is long, life short, judgment difficult, opportunity transient. +To act is easy, to think is hard; to act according to our +thought is troublesome. Every beginning is cheerful; the +threshold is the place of expectation. The boy stands astonished, +his impressions guide him; he learns sportfully, seriousness comes +on him by surprise. Imitation is born with us; what should be +imitated is not easy to discover. The excellent is rarely found, +more rarely valued. The height charms us, the steps to it do +not; with the summit in our eye, we love to walk along the +plain. It is but a part of art that can be taught; the artist +needs it all. Who knows it half, speaks much and is always +wrong; who knows it wholly, inclines to act and speaks seldom +or late. The former have no secrets and no force; the instruction +they can give is like baked bread, savory and satisfying for +a single day; but flour cannot be sown, and seed corn ought not +to be ground. Words are good, but they are not the best. The +best is not to be explained by words. The spirit in which we act +is the highest matter. Action can be understood and again represented +by the spirit alone. No one knows what he is doing +while he acts aright; but of what is wrong we are always conscious. +Whoever works with symbols only is a pedant, a hypocrite, +or a bungler. There are many such, and they like to be +together. Their babbling detains the scholar; their obstinate +mediocrity vexes even the best. The instruction which the true +artist gives us opens the mind; for where words fail him, deeds +speak. The true scholar learns from the known to unfold the +unknown, and approaches more and more to being a master.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 6439]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="THE_HARPERS_SONGS" id="THE_HARPERS_SONGS"></a>THE HARPER'S SONGS</h3> + +<h4>From 'Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship'</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"What notes are those without the wall,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Across the portal sounding?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let's have the music in our hall,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Back from its roof rebounding."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So spoke the king: the henchman flies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His answer heard, the monarch cries,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">"Bring in that ancient minstrel."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Hail, gracious king, each noble knight!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Each lovely dame, I greet you!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What glittering stars salute my sight!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">What heart unmoved may meet you!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such lordly pomp is not for me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far other scenes my eyes must see:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Yet deign to list my harping."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The singer turns him to his art,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A thrilling strain he raises;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each warrior hears with glowing heart<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And on his loved one gazes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The king, who liked his playing well,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Commands, for such a kindly spell,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A golden chain be given him.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The golden chain give not to me:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thy boldest knight may wear it,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who 'cross the battle's purple sea<br /></span> +<span class="i1">On lion breast may bear it;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or let it be thy chancellor's prize,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amid his heaps to feast his eyes,—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Its yellow glance will please him.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I sing but as the linnet sings,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That on the green bough dwelleth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A rich reward his music brings,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As from his throat it swelleth:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet might I ask, I'd ask of thine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One sparkling draught of purest wine<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To drink it here before you."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He viewed the wine, he quaffed it up:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">"O draught of sweetest savor!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 6440]</a></span><span class="i0">O happy house, where such a cup<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Is thought a little favor!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If well you fare, remember me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thank kind Heaven, from envy free,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As now for this I thank you."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 15%;' /> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who never ate his bread in sorrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Who never spent the darksome hours<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weeping and watching for the morrow,—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">He knows ye not, ye gloomy Powers.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To earth, this weary earth, ye bring us,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To guilt ye let us heedless go,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then leave repentance fierce to wring us;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A moment's guilt, an age of woe!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="MIGNONS_SONG" id="MIGNONS_SONG"></a>MIGNON'S SONG</h3> + +<h4>From 'Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship'</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Such let me seem, till such I be;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Take not my snow-white dress away!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soon from this dusk of earth I flee,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Up to the glittering lands of day.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There first a little space I rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Then wake so glad, to scenes so kind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In earthly robes no longer drest,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">This band, this girdle left behind.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And those calm shining sons of morn,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">They ask not who is maid or boy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No robes, no garments there are worn,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Our body pure from sin's alloy.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Through little life not much I toiled,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Yet anguish long this heart has wrung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Untimely woe my blossoms spoiled:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Make me again forever young!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 6441]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="PHILINAS_SONG" id="PHILINAS_SONG"></a>PHILINA'S SONG</h3> + +<h4>From 'Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship'</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sing me not with such emotion<br /></span> +<span class="i1">How the night so lonesome is;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pretty maids, I've got a notion<br /></span> +<span class="i1">It is the reverse of this.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For as wife and man are plighted,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the better half the wife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So is night to day united,—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Night's the better half of life.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Can you joy in bustling daytime,—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Day, when none can get his will?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is good for work, for haytime;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">For much other it is ill.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But when in the nightly glooming,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Social lamp on table glows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Face for faces dear illuming,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And such jest and joyance goes;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the fiery pert young fellow,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Wont by day to run or ride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whispering now some tale would tell O,—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">All so gentle by your side;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the nightingale to lovers<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Lovingly her songlet sings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which for exiles and sad rovers<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Like mere woe and wailing rings;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With a heart how lightsome-feeling<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Do ye count the kindly clock,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, twelve times deliberate pealing,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Tells you none to-night shall knock!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Therefore, on all fit occasions,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Mark it, maidens, what I sing:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Every day its own vexations,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the night its joys will bring.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 6442]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="PROMETHEUS" id="PROMETHEUS"></a>PROMETHEUS</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Blacken thy heavens, Jove,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">With thunder-clouds,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And exercise thee, like a boy<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Who thistles crops,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">With smiting oaks and mountain-tops:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Yet must leave me standing<br /></span> +<span class="i5">My own firm earth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Must leave my cottage, which thou didst not build,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">And my warm hearth,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Whose cheerful glow<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Thou enviest me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">I know naught more pitiful<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Under the sun, than you, gods!<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Ye nourish scantily<br /></span> +<span class="i5">With altar taxes<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And with cold lip-service,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">This your majesty;—<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Would perish, were not<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Children and beggars<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Credulous fools.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i5">When I was a child,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And knew not whence or whither,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">I would turn my 'wildered eye<br /></span> +<span class="i3">To the sun, as if up yonder were<br /></span> +<span class="i3">An ear to hear to my complaining—A<br /></span> +<span class="i5">heart, like mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On the oppressed to feel compassion.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i5">Who helped me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When I braved the Titans' insolence?<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Who rescued me from death,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">From slavery?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hast thou not all thyself accomplished,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Holy-glowing heart?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And, glowing, young, and good,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Most ignorantly thanked<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The slumberer above there?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">I honor thee! For what?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Hast thou the miseries lightened<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Of the down-trodden?<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 6443]</a></span><span class="i2">Hast thou the tears ever banished<br /></span> +<span class="i5">From the afflicted?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Have I not to manhood been molded<br /></span> +<span class="i5">By omnipotent Time,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And by Fate everlasting,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">My lords and thine?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i5">Dreamedst thou ever<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I should grow weary of living,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">And fly to the desert,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Since not all our<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Pretty dream buds ripen?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i5">Here sit I, fashion men<br /></span> +<span class="i5">In mine own image,—<br /></span> +<span class="i5">A race to be like me,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">To weep and to suffer,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To be happy and enjoy themselves,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">To be careless of <i>thee</i> too,<br /></span> +<span class="i7">As I!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="trans">Translation of John S. Dwight.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="WANDERERS_NIGHT_SONGS" id="WANDERERS_NIGHT_SONGS"></a>WANDERER'S NIGHT SONGS</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou that from the heavens art,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Every pain and sorrow stillest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the doubly wretched heart<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Doubly with refreshment fillest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am weary with contending!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Why this rapture and unrest?<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Peace descending,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Come, ah come into my breast!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">O'er all the hill-tops<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Is quiet now,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In all the tree-tops<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Hearest thou<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Hardly a breath;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The birds are asleep in the trees:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Wait; soon like these<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Thou too shalt rest.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="trans">Longfellow's Translation. Reprinted by permission of Houghton, Mifflin & +Co., publishers, Boston</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 6444]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="THE_ELFIN-KING" id="THE_ELFIN-KING"></a>THE ELFIN-KING</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who rides so late through the midnight blast?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis a father spurs on with his child full fast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He gathers the boy well into his arm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He clasps him close and he keeps him warm.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"My son, why thus to my arm dost cling?"—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Father, dost thou not see the elfin-king?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The elfin-king with his crown and train!"—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"My son, 'tis a streak of the misty rain!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>"Come hither, thou darling, come, go with me!</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Fine games I know that I'll play with thee;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Flowers many and bright do my kingdoms hold,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>My mother has many a robe of gold."</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O father, dear father, and dost thou not hear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What the elfin-king whispers so low in mine ear?"—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Calm, calm thee, my boy, it is only the breeze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As it rustles the withered leaves under the trees."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>"Wilt thou go, bonny boy, wilt thou go with me?</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>My daughters shall wait on thee daintily;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>My daughters around thee in dance shall sweep,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>And rock thee and kiss thee and sing thee to sleep."</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O father, dear father, and dost thou not mark<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The elf-king's daughters move by in the dark?"—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"I see it, my child; but it is not they,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis the old willow nodding its head so gray."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>"I love thee! thy beauty it charms me so;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>And I'll take thee by force, if thou wilt not go!"</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">"O father, dear father, he's grasping me,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart is as cold as cold can be!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The father rides swiftly,—with terror he gasps,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sobbing child in his arms he clasps;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He reaches the castle with spurring and dread;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But alack! in his arms the child lay dead!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="trans">Translation of Martin and Aytoun.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 6445]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="FROM_THE_WANDERERS_STORM_SONG" id="FROM_THE_WANDERERS_STORM_SONG"></a>FROM 'THE WANDERER'S STORM SONG'</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">Whom thou desertest not, O Genius,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Neither blinding rain nor storm<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Breathes upon his heart a chill.<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Whom thou desertest not, O Genius,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">To the lowering clouds,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">To the beating hail,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">He will sing cheerly,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">As the lark there,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Thou that soarest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">Whom thou desertest not, O Genius,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Him thou'lt lift o'er miry places<br /></span> +<span class="i5">On thy flaming pinions:<br /></span> +<span class="i5">He will traverse<br /></span> +<span class="i5">As on feet of flowers<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Slime of Deucalion's deluge;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Slaying Python, strong, great,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Pythius Apollo!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">Whom thou desertest not, O Genius,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou wilt spread thy downy wings beneath him,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">When he sleeps upon the crags;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou wilt cover him with guardian pinions<br /></span> +<span class="i5">In the midnight forest depths.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">Whom thou desertest not, O Genius,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Thou wilt in whirling snow-storm<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Warmly wrap him round;<br /></span> +<span class="i5">To the warmth fly the Muses,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">To the warmth fly the Graces.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i5">Around me float, ye Muses,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And float, ye Graces!<br /></span> +<span class="i5">This is water, this is earth<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And the son of water and of earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i7">Over whom I wander<br /></span> +<span class="i9">Like the gods.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">You are pure like the heart of water,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">You are pure like the core of earth;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">You float around me, and I float<br /></span> +<span class="i7">Over water, over earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i9">Like the gods.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="trans">Translation of Charles Harvey Genung.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 6446]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="THE_GODLIKE" id="THE_GODLIKE"></a>THE GODLIKE</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Noble be Man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Helpful and good!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For that alone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doth distinguish him<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From all the beings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which we know.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hail to the Unknown, the<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Higher Beings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Felt within us!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His pattern teach us<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Faith in them!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For unfeeling<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is Nature:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still shineth the sun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over good and evil:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to the sinner<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Smile, as to the best,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The moon and the stars.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wind and waters,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thunder and hailstones,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rustle on their way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Smiting down as<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They dash along,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One for another.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Just so does Fate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grope round in the crowd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seize now the innocent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Curly-haired boy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now on the old, bald<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Crown of the villain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">By great adamantine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Laws everlasting,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here we must all our<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Round of existence<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Faithfully finish.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There can none but Man<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perform the Impossible.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He understandeth,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 6447]</a></span><span class="i0">Chooseth, and judgeth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He can impart to the<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Moment duration.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He alone may<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Good reward,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Guilty punish,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mend and deliver;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the wayward, anomalous<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bind in the Useful.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And the Immortals—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Them we reverence,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if they were men, and<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did, on a grand scale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What the best man in little<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Does, or fain would do.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let noble Man<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be helpful and good!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ever creating<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Right and the Useful—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Type of those loftier<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beings of whom the heart whispers!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="trans">Translation of John S. Dwight.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="SOLITUDE" id="SOLITUDE"></a>SOLITUDE</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O ye kindly nymphs, who dwell 'mongst the rocks and the thickets,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Grant unto each whatsoever he may in silence desire!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Comfort impart to the mourner, and give to the doubter instruction,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And let the lover rejoice, finding the bliss that he craves.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For from the gods ye received what they ever denied unto mortals,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Power to comfort and aid all who in you may confide.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="trans">Translation of E. A. Bowring.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 6448]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="ERGO" id="ERGO"></a>ERGO BIBAMUS!</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For a praiseworthy object we're now gathered here,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So, brethren, sing Ergo bibamus!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though talk may be hushed, yet the glasses ring clear:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Remember then, Ergo bibamus!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In truth 'tis an old, 'tis an excellent word;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With its sound so befitting each bosom is stirred,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And an echo the festal hall filling is heard,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A glorious Ergo bibamus!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I saw mine own love in her beauty so rare,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And bethought me of Ergo bibamus;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So I gently approached, and she let me stand there,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While I helped myself, thinking, Bibamus!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when she's appeared, and will clasp you and kiss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or when those embraces and kisses ye miss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Take refuge, till found is some worthier bliss,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the comforting Ergo bibamus!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I am called by my fate far away from each friend;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye loved ones, then, Ergo bibamus!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With wallet light-laden from hence I must wend,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So double our Ergo bibamus!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whatever to his treasure the niggard may add,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet regard for the joyous will ever be had,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For gladness lends ever its charms to the glad,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So, brethren, sing: Ergo bibamus!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And what shall we say of to-day as it flies?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I thought but of Ergo bibamus!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis one of those truly that seldom arise,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So again and again sing Bibamus!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For joy through a wide-open portal it guides,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bright glitter the clouds as the curtain divides,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a form, a divine one, to greet us in glides,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While we thunder our Ergo bibamus.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="trans">Translation of E. A. Bowring.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 6449]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="ALEXIS_AND_DORA" id="ALEXIS_AND_DORA"></a>ALEXIS AND DORA</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Farther and farther away, alas! at each moment the vessel<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Hastens, as onward it glides, cleaving the foam-covered flood!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Long is the track plowed up by the keel where dolphins are sporting,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Following fast in its rear, while it seems flying pursuit.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All forebodes a prosperous voyage; the sailor with calmness<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Leans 'gainst the sail, which alone all that is needed performs.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forward presses the heart of each seaman, like colors and streamers;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Backward one only is seen, mournfully fixed near the mast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While on the blue-tinged mountains, which fast are receding, he gazeth,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And as they sink in the sea, joy from his bosom departs.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vanished from thee, too, O Dora, is now the vessel that robs thee<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of thine Alexis, thy friend,—ah, thy betrothèd as well!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou, too, art after me gazing in vain. Our hearts are still throbbing,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Though for each other, yet ah! 'gainst one another no more.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O thou single moment, wherein I found life! thou outweighest<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Every day which had else coldly from memory fled.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas in that moment alone, the last, that upon me descended<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Life such as deities grant, though thou perceivèdst it not.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Phœbus, in vain with thy rays dost thou clothe the ether in glory:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thine all-brightening day hateful alone is to me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into myself I retreat for shelter, and there in the silence<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Strive to recover the time when she appeared with each day.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was it possible beauty like this to see, and not feel it?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Worked not those heavenly charms e'en on a mind dull as thine?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blame not thyself, unhappy one! Oft doth the bard an enigma<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thus propose to the throng, skillfully hidden in words;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each one enjoys the strange commingling of images graceful,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Yet still is wanting the word which will discover the sense.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When at length it is found, the heart of each hearer is gladdened,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And in the poem he sees meaning of twofold delight.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherefore so late didst thou remove the bandage, O Amor,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Which thou hadst placed o'er mine eyes,—wherefore remove it so late?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Long did the vessel, when laden, lie waiting for favoring breezes,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Till in kindness the wind blew from the land o'er the sea.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vacant times of youth! and vacant dreams of the future!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Ye all vanish, and naught, saving the moment, remains.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yes! it remains,—my joy still remains! I hold thee, my Dora,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And thine image alone, Dora, by hope is disclosed.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 6450]</a></span><span class="i0">Oft have I seen thee go, with modesty clad, to the temple,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">While thy mother so dear solemnly went by thy side.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eager and nimble thou wert, in bearing thy fruit to the market,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Boldly the pail from the well didst thou sustain on thy head.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then was revealed thy neck, then seen thy shoulders so beauteous,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Then, before all things, the grace filling thy motions was seen.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oft have I feared that the pitcher perchance was in danger of falling,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Yet it ever remained firm on the circular cloth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus, fair neighbor, yes, thus I oft was wont to observe thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As on the stars I might gaze, as I might gaze on the moon;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glad indeed at the sight, yet feeling within my calm bosom<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Not the remotest desire ever to call them mine own.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Years thus fleeted away! Although our houses were only<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Twenty paces apart, yet I thy threshold ne'er crossed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now by the fearful flood are we parted! Thou liest to Heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Billow! thy beautiful blue seems to me dark as the night.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All were now in movement: a boy to the house of my father<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Ran at full speed and exclaimed, "Hasten thee quick to the strand!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hoisted the sail is already, e'en now in the wind it is fluttering,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">While the anchor they weigh, heaving it up from the sand;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come, Alexis, oh come!"—My worthy stout-hearted father<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Pressed, with a blessing, his hand down on my curly-locked head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While my mother carefully reached me a newly made bundle;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">"Happy mayst thou return!" cried they—"both happy and rich!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then I sprang away, and under my arm held the bundle,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Running along by the wall. Standing I found thee hard by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At the door of thy garden. Thou smilingly saidst then, "Alexis!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Say, are yon boisterous crew going thy comrades to be?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Foreign coasts wilt thou visit, and precious merchandise purchase,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Ornaments meet for the rich matrons who dwell in the town;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bring me also, I pray thee, a light chain; gladly I'll pay thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Oft have I wished to possess some such a trinket as that."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There I remained, and asked, as merchants are wont, with precision<br /></span> +<span class="i1">After the form and the weight which thy commission should have.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Modest indeed was the price thou didst name! I meanwhile was gazing<br /></span> +<span class="i1">On thy neck, which deserved ornaments worn but by queens.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Loudly now rose the cry from the ship; then kindly thou spakest:—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">"Take, I entreat thee, some fruit out of the garden, my friend!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Take the ripest oranges, figs of the whitest; the ocean<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Beareth no fruit, and in truth, 'tis not produced by each land."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So I entered in. Thou pluckedst the fruit from the branches,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the burden of gold was in thine apron upheld.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 6451]</a></span><span class="i0">Oft did I cry, Enough! But fairer fruits were still falling<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Into thy hand as I spake, ever obeying thy touch.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Presently didst thou reach the arbor; there lay there a basket,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Sweet blooming myrtle-trees waved, as we drew nigh, o'er our heads.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then thou began'st to arrange the fruit with skill and in silence:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">First the orange, which heavy as though 'twere of gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then the yielding fig, by the slightest pressure disfigured,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And with myrtle, the gift soon was both covered and graced.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I raised it not up. I stood. Our eyes met together,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And my eyesight grew dim, seeming obscured by a film.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soon I felt thy bosom on mine! Mine arm was soon twining<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Round thy beautiful form; thousand times kissed I thy neck.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On my shoulder sank thy head; thy fair arms, encircling,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Soon rendered perfect the ring knitting a rapturous pair.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amor's hands I felt; he pressed us together with ardor,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And from the firmament clear, thrice did it thunder; then tears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Streamed from mine eyes in torrents, thou weptest, I wept, both were weeping,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And 'mid our sorrow and bliss, even the world seemed to die.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Louder and louder they called from the strand; my feet would no longer<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Bear my weight, and I cried:—"Dora! and art thou not mine?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Thine forever!" thou gently didst say. Then the tears we were shedding<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Seemed to be wiped from our eyes, as by the breath of a god.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nearer was heard the cry "Alexis!" The stripling who sought me<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Suddenly peeped through the door. How he the basket snatched up!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How he urged me away! how pressed I thy hand! Dost thou ask me<br /></span> +<span class="i1">How the vessel I reached? Drunken I seemed, well I know,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drunken my shipmates believed me, and so had pity upon me;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And as the breeze drove us on, distance the town soon obscured.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Thine forever!" thou, Dora, didst murmur; it fell on my senses<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With the thunder of Zeus! while by the thunderer's throne<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stood his daughter, the goddess of Love; the Graces were standing<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Close by her side! so the bond beareth an impress divine!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh then hasten, thou ship, with every favoring zephyr!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Onward, thou powerful keel, cleaving the waves as they foam!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bring me unto the foreign harbor, so that the goldsmith<br /></span> +<span class="i1">May in his workshop prepare straightway the heavenly pledge!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ay, of a truth, the chain shall indeed be a chain, O my Dora!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Nine times encircling thy neck, loosely around it entwined.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 6452]</a></span><span class="i0">Other and manifold trinkets I'll buy thee; gold-mounted bracelets,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Richly and skillfully wrought, also shall grace thy fair hand.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There shall the ruby and emerald vie, the sapphire so lovely<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Be to the jacinth opposed, seeming its foil; while the gold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Holds all the jewels together, in beauteous union commingled.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Oh, how the bridegroom exults, when he adorns his betrothed!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pearls if I see, of thee they remind me; each ring that is shown me<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Brings to my mind thy fair hand's graceful and tapering form.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will barter and buy; the fairest of all shalt thou choose thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Joyously would I devote all of the cargo to thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet not trinkets and jewels alone is thy loved one procuring;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With them he brings thee whate'er gives to a housewife delight:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fine and woolen coverlets, wrought with an edging of purple,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Fit for a couch where we both, lovingly, gently may rest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Costly pieces of linen. Thou sittest and sewest, and clothest<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Me, and thyself, and perchance even a third with it too.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Visions of hope, deceive ye my heart! Ye kindly immortals,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Soften this fierce-raging flame, wildly pervading my breast!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet how I long to feel them again, those rapturous torments,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When in their stead, Care draws nigh, coldly and fearfully calm.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Neither the Furies' torch, nor the hounds of hell with their barking,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Awe the delinquent so much, down in the plains of despair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As by the motionless spectre I'm awed, that shows me the fair one<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Far away: of a truth, open the garden door stands!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And another one cometh! For him the fruit, too, is falling,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And for him also the fig strengthening honey doth yield!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doth she entice him as well to the arbor? He follows? Oh, make me<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Blind, ye Immortals! efface visions like this from my mind!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yes, she is but a maiden! And she who to one doth so quickly<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Yield, to another erelong, doubtless, will turn herself round.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Smile not, Zeus, for this once, at an oath so cruelly broken!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thunder more fearfully! Strike!—Stay—thy fierce lightnings withhold!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hurl at me thy quivering bolt! In the darkness of midnight<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Strike with thy lightning this mast, make it a pitiful wreck!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scatter the planks all around, and give to the boisterous billows<br /></span> +<span class="i1">All these wares, and let <i>me</i> be to the dolphins a prey!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now, ye Muses, enough! In vain would ye strive to depicture<br /></span> +<span class="i1">How, in a love-laden breast, anguish alternates with bliss.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye cannot heal the wounds, it is true, that love hath inflicted;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Yet from you only proceeds, kindly ones, comfort and balm.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="trans">Translation of E. A. Bowring.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 6453]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="MAXIMS" id="MAXIMS"></a>MAXIMS AND REFLECTIONS</h3> + +<h4>From 'Maxims and Reflections of Goethe.' Translation of Bailey Saunders. Copyright 1892, by Macmillan & Co.</h4> + +<p>It is not always needful for truth to take a definite shape: it is +enough if it hovers about us like a spirit and produces harmony; +if it is wafted through the air like the sound of a +bell, grave and kindly.</p> + +<hr style='width: 15%;' /> + +<p>I must hold it for the greatest calamity of our time, which +lets nothing come to maturity, that one moment is consumed by +the next, and the day spent in the day; so that a man is always +living from hand to mouth, without having anything to show for +it. Have we not already newspapers for every hour of the day? +A good head could assuredly intercalate one or other of them. +They publish abroad everything that every one does, or is busy +with or meditating; nay, his very designs are thereby dragged +into publicity. No one can rejoice or be sorry, but as a pastime +for others; and so it goes on from house to house, from city to +city, from kingdom to kingdom, and at last from one hemisphere +to the other,—all in post-haste.</p> + +<hr style='width: 15%;' /> + +<p>During a prolonged study of the lives of various men both +great and small, I came upon this thought: In the web of the +world the one may well be regarded as the warp, the other as +the woof. It is the little men, after all, who give breadth to the +web, and the great men firmness and solidity; perhaps also the +addition of some sort of pattern. But the scissors of the Fates +determine its length, and to that all the rest must join in submitting +itself.</p> + +<hr style='width: 15%;' /> + +<p>There is nothing more odious than the majority: it consists +of a few powerful men to lead the way; of accommodating rascals +and submissive weaklings; and of a mass of men who trot +after them without in the least knowing their own mind.</p> + +<hr style='width: 15%;' /> + +<p>Translators are like busy match-makers: they sing the praises +of some half-veiled beauty, and extol her charms, and arouse an +irresistible longing for the original.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 6454]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="NATURE" id="NATURE"></a>NATURE</h3> + + +<p>Nature! We are surrounded by her and locked in her clasp: +powerless to leave her, and powerless to come closer to +her. Unasked and unwarned she takes us up into the +whirl of her dance, and hurries on with us till we are weary +and fall from her arms.</p> + +<p>There is constant life in her, motion and development; and +yet she remains where she was. She is eternally changing, nor +for a moment does she stand still. Of rest she knows nothing, +and to all stagnation she has affixed her curse. She is steadfast; +her step is measured, her exceptions rare, her laws immutable.</p> + +<p>She loves herself, and clings eternally to herself with eyes +and hearts innumerable. She has divided herself that she may +be her own delight. She is ever making new creatures spring +up to delight in her, and imparts herself insatiably.</p> + +<p>She rejoices in illusion. If a man destroys this in himself +and others, she punishes him like the hardest tyrant. If he follows +her in confidence, she presses him to her heart as it were +her child.</p> + +<p>She spurts forth her creatures out of nothing, and tells them +not whence they come and whither they go. They have only to +go their way: she knows the path.</p> + +<p>Her crown is Love. Only through Love can we come near +her. She puts gulfs between all things, and all things strive to +be interfused. She isolates everything, that she may draw everything +together. With a few draughts from the cup of Love she +repays for a life full of trouble.</p> + +<p>She is all things. She rewards herself and punishes herself, +and in herself rejoices and is distressed. She is rough and gentle, +loving and terrible, powerless and almighty. In her everything +is always present. Past or Future she knows not. The +Present is her Eternity. She is kind. I praise her with all her +works. She is wise and still. No one can force her to explain +herself, or frighten her into a gift that she does not give willingly. +She is crafty, but for a good end; and it is best not to +notice her cunning.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 6455]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="GOGOL" id="GOGOL"></a>NIKOLAI VASILIEVITCH GOGOL</h2> + +<h4>(1809-1852)</h4> + +<h4>BY ISABEL F. HAPGOOD</h4> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 90px;"> +<img src="images/capg.png" width="90" height="90" alt="G" title="G" /> +</div><p class="dropcap">ogol has been called the "father of modern Russian realism," +and he has been credited with the creation of all the types +which we meet in the great novelists who followed him. +This is in great measure true, especially so far as the male characters +are concerned. The germs at least, if not the condensed characterization +in full, are recognizable in Gogol's famous novel 'Dead +Souls,' his Little-Russian stories 'Tales from a Farm-House near +Dikanka' and 'Mirgorod,' and his comedy 'The Inspector,' which +still holds the stage.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 170px;"> +<img src="images/gogol.png" width="170" height="211" alt="Nikolai Gogol" title="Nikolai Gogol" /> +<span class="caption"><span class="smcap">Nikolai Gogol</span></span> +</div> + +<p>It was precisely because of his genius +in seizing the national types that the poet +Pushkin, one of Gogol's earliest and warmest +admirers, gave to him the plans of +'Dead Souls' and 'The Inspector,' which +he had intended to make use of himself. +That he became the "father of Russian +realism" was due not only to his own genius, +but to the epoch in which he lived, +though he solved the problem for himself +quite independently of the Continental +literatures which were undergoing the same +process of transformation from romanticism +to realism. For, nearly a hundred years +before Gogol and his foreign contemporaries of the forties—the pioneers, +in their respective countries, of the new literature—won the +public, Europe had been living a sort of modern epic. In imitation +of the ancient epics, writers portrayed heroes of gigantic powers in +every direction, and set them in a framework of exceptional crises +which aroused their powerful emotions in the cause of right, or their +superhuman conflict with masterful persons or overwhelming woes. +But the daily experience of those who suffered from the manifold +miseries of battle and invasion in this modern epic epoch, made it +impossible for them to disregard longer the claim on their sympathies +of the common things and people of their world, though these +can very easily be ignored when one reads the ancient epics. Thus +did realism have its dawn in many lands when the era of peace gave +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 6456]</a></span> +men time to define their position, and when pseudo-classicism had +at last palled on their taste, which had begun to recognize its coldness +and inherent falsity.</p> + +<p>Naturally, in this new quest of Truth, romanticism and realism +were mingled at first. This was the case with Gogol-Yanovsky, to +give him his full name. But he soon struck out in the right path. +He was born and reared in Little Russia, at Sorotchinsky, government +of Poltava. He was separated by only two generations from +the epoch of the Zaporozhian Kazak army, whose life he has recorded +in his famous historical novel 'Taras Bulba,' his grandfather having +been regimental scribe of the Kazaks, an office of honor. The spirit +of the Zaporozhian Kazaks still lingered over the land, which was +overflowing with legends, and with fervent, childlike piety of the +superstitious order. At least one half of the Little-Russian stories +which made Gogol's fame he owes to his grandfather, who appears +as Rudiy Panko the Bee-Farmer, in the 'Tales from a Farm-House +near Dikanka.' His father, who represented the modern spirit, was +an inimitable narrator of comic stories, and the talents of this father +and grandfather rendered their house the social centre of a very +wide neighborhood.</p> + +<p>At school Gogol did not distinguish himself in his studies, but +wrote a great deal, all of an imitative character, and got up school +plays in emulation of those which he had seen at his own home. +His lack of scholarship made it impossible for him to pursue the +learned career of professor of history, on which he embarked after +he had with labor obtained, and shortly renounced, the career of +copying-clerk in St. Petersburg. His vast but dimly defined ambition +to accomplish great things for his fatherland in some mysterious +way, and fame for himself, equally suffered shipwreck to his mind; +though if we consider the part which the realistic literature he +founded has played on the world's stage, we may count his apparent +defeat a solid victory. His brief career as professor of history at the +university was brought about by his ambition, and through the influence +of the literary men whose friendship he had won by his first +'Little-Russian Tales.' They recognized his genius, and at last he +himself recognized that the new style of writing which he had created +was his vocation, and devoted himself wholly to literature. At +the close of 1831 the first volume of 'Tales from a Farm-House' +appeared, and had an immense success. The second volume, 'Mirgorod, +followed, with equal success. It contained a new element: the +merriment of the first volume had been pure, unmixed; in the second +volume he had developed not only the realism but that special trait +of his genius, "laughter piercing through a mist of tears," of which +'Old-Fashioned Gentry' and 'How the Two Ivans Quarreled' offer +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 6457]</a></span> +celebrated examples. But success always flew to Gogol's head: he +immediately began to despise these products of his true vocation, and +to plan grandiose projects far beyond his powers of education and +entirely outside the range of his talent. Now, for instance, he undertook +a colossal work in nine volumes on the history of the Middle +Ages. Happily, he abandoned that, after his studies of Little-Russian +history incidental thereto had resulted in his epic of the highest art, +'Taras Bulba.'</p> + +<p>The first outcome of his recognition that literary work was his +moral duty, not a mere pastime, was his great play 'The Inspector.' +It was produced in April, 1836. The authorities steadfastly opposed +its production; but the Emperor Nicholas I. heard of it, read it, +ordered it produced, and upheld Gogol in enthusiastic delight. Officials, +merchants, police, literary people, everybody, attacked the +author. They had laughed at his pathos; now they raged at his +comedy, refused to recognize their own portraits, and still tried to +have the play prohibited. Gogol's health and spirits were profoundly +affected by this unexpected enmity. He fled abroad, and returned to +Russia thereafter only at intervals for brief visits, and chiefly to Moscow, +where most of his faithful friends lived. He traveled much, but +spent most of his time in Rome, where his lavish charities kept him +always poor, even after the complete success of 'The Inspector' and +of the first part of 'Dead Souls' would have enabled him to exist in +comfort. He was accustomed to say that he could only see Russia +clearly when he was far from her, and in a measure he proved this +by his inimitable first volume of 'Dead Souls.' Herein he justified +Pushkin's expectations in giving him that subject which would enable +him to paint, in types, the classes and localities of his fatherland. +But this long residence in Rome was fatal to his mind and health, and +eventually extinguished the last sparks of genius. The Russian mind +is peculiarly inclined to mysticism, and Russian writers of eminence +seem to be even more susceptible in that direction than ordinary men. +Of the noted writers in this century, Pushkin and Lermontoff had +leaned decidedly in that direction towards the end of their careers, +brief as their lives were. Gogol was their intimate friend in Russia, +and after he went abroad he was the intimate friend of the aged +poet Zhukovsky, who became a mystic in his declining years.</p> + +<p>Even in his school days Gogol had shown, in his letters to his +mother, a marked tendency to religious exaltation. Now, under the +combined pressure of his personal inclinations, friendships, and the +clerical atmosphere of Rome, he developed into a mystic and ascetic +of the most pronounced type. In this frame of mind, he looked upon +all his earlier writings as sins which must be atoned for; and yet +his immense self-esteem was so flattered by the tremendous success +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 6458]</a></span> +of 'The Inspector' and of the first part of 'Dead Souls,' that he +began to regard himself as a kind of divinely commissioned prophet, +whose duty it was to exhort his fellow-men. The extract from these +hortatory letters to his friends which he published convinced his +countrymen that nothing more was to be expected from him. The +failure of this volume only helped to plunge him into deeper depths of +self-torture. In the few remaining lucid moments of his genius he +worked at the second part of 'Dead Souls,' but destroyed what he +had written in the moments of ecstatic remorse which followed. +Thus the greatest work of his mature genius remains uncompleted. +In 1848 he made a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, and returned through +Odessa to Moscow, where he lived until his death, growing constantly +more mystical, more ascetic. Sleepless nights spent in prayer, fasting +to the extent of trying to nourish himself (as it is affirmed that +practiced ascetics successfully can) for a week on one of the tiny +double loaves which are used in the Holy Communion, completed the +ravages of his long-endured maladies.</p> + +<p>It was for publishing in a Moscow paper an enthusiastic obituary +of the dead genius, which he had been forbidden to publish in St. +Petersburg, that Turgénieff was sent into residence on his estate, and +enriched the world with the first work of the rising genius, 'The +Diary of a Sportsman.' Acuteness of observation; natural, infectious, +genuine humor; vivid realism; and an inimitable power of depicting +national types, are Gogol's distinguishing characteristics: and these +in varying degrees are precisely the ingredients which have entered +into the works of his successors and rendered Russian literature +famous as a school.</p> + +<p>In reviewing Gogol's work, we may set aside with but cursory +mention his youthful idyl, written while still in the gymnasium, published +anonymously and overwhelmed with ridicule, 'Hans Kuchel-garten'; +his 'Arabesques,' which are useful chiefly as a contribution +to the study of the man and his opinions, not as permanent additions +to literature; his 'Extracts from Correspondence with Friends,' which +belong to the sermonizing, clouded period of his life's close; and the +divers 'Fragments,' both of prose and dramatic writing, all of which +are conscientiously included in the complete editions of his writings.</p> + +<p>The only complete play which he wrote except 'The Inspector' +is the comedy 'Marriage,' which is still acted, though very seldom. +It is full of naturalness and his own peculiar humor, but its subject +does not appeal to the universal public of all lands as nearly as does +the plan of 'The Inspector.' The plot, in brief, is founded on a +young girl's meditations on marriage, and her actions which lead up +to and follow those meditations. The Heroine, desirous of marrying, +invokes the aid of the Match-maker, the old-time matrimonial agent +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 6459]</a></span> +in the Russian merchant and peasant classes by conventional etiquette. +The Match-maker offers for her consideration several suitable +men, all strangers; the Heroine makes her choice, and is very well +content with her suitor. But she begins to meditate on the future, +becomes moved to tears by the thought of her daughter's possible +unhappiness in a hypothetical wretched marriage in the dim future, +and at last, unable to endure this painful prospect, she evades her +betrothed and breaks off the match. While the characteristic and +national touches are keen and true,—precursors of the vein which +Ostrovsky so happily developed later,—the play must remain a matter +of greater interest to Russians than to foreigners.</p> + +<p>The interest of 'The Inspector,' on the other hand, is universal: +official negligence and corruption, bribery, masculine boastfulness and +vanity, and feminine qualities to correspond, are the private prerogatives +of no one nation, of no one epoch. The comedy possesses all +the elements of social portraiture and satire without caricature: +concentration of time, place, action, language, and a tremendous condensation +of character traits which are not only truly, typically national, +but which come within the ken of all fair-minded persons in other +countries.</p> + +<p>The volume with which he scored his first success, and which +must remain a classic, is 'Evenings at a Farm-House near Dikanka.' +As the second volume, 'Mirgorod,' and his volume of 'St. Petersburg +Tales,' all combine essentially the same ingredients, though in varying +measure, we may consider them together. All the tales in the +first two volumes are from his beloved birthplace, Little Russia. +Some of them are simply the artistic and literary rendering of popular +legends, whose counterparts may be found in the folk literature +of other lands. Such are the story of the vampire, 'Vy,' 'St. John's +Eve,' and the exquisite 'A May Night,' where the famous poetical +spirit of the Ukraina is displayed in its full force and beauty. 'The +Lost Document,' 'Sorotchinsky Fair,' 'The Enchanted Spot,' and +others of like legendary but more exclusively national character, show +the same fertility of wit and skill of management, with close study +of every-day customs, superstitions, and life, which render them invaluable +to both Russians and foreigners.</p> + +<p>More important than these, however, are such stories as 'Old-Fashioned +Gentry' (or 'Farmers'), where keen but kindly wit, more +tempered than the mirth of youthful high spirits which had imbued +the fantastic tales, is mingled with the purest, deepest pathos and +minute delineation of character and customs, in an inimitable work of +the highest art. To this category belong also 'How the Two Ivans +Quarreled' (the full title, 'How Ivan Ivan'itch and Ivan Nikifor'itch +Quarreled,' is rather unwieldy for the foreign ear), and 'The Cloak,' +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 6460]</a></span> +from the volume of 'St. Petersburg Tales.' We may also count 'The +Nevsky Prospekt' with these; while 'The Portrait' is semi-fantastic, +'The Nose' and 'The Calash' are wholly so, though not legendary, +and 'The Diary of a Madman' is unexcelled as an amusing but touching +study of a diseased mind in the ranks of petty officialdom.</p> + +<p>Gogol's capital work, however, is his 'Dead Souls.' In it he carried +to its highest point his talent for accurate delineation of his +countrymen and the conditions of their life. There is less pathos +than in some of his short tales; but all the other elements are perfected. +Pushkin's generosity and sound judgment were never better +shown than in the gift which he made to Gogol of the plan of this +book. He could not have executed it himself as well. The work +must forever rank as a Russian classic; it ought to rank as a universal +classic. The types are as fresh, true, and vivid to one who knows +the Russia of to-day as they were when they were first introduced to +the enthusiastic public of 1842.</p> + +<p>In the pre-Emancipation days, a soul meant a male serf. The +women were not counted in the periodical revisions, though the working +unit, a <i>tyaglo</i>, consisted of a man, his wife, and his horse—the +indispensable trinity to agricultural labor. In the interval between +the revisions, a landed proprietor continued to pay for all the serfs +accredited to him on the official list, the births being reckoned for +convenience as an exact offset to the deaths. Another provision +of the law was, that no one should purchase serfs without the land +to which they belonged, except for the purpose of colonization. An +ingenious fraud suggested by a combination of these two laws forms +the foundation of 'Dead Souls.' The hero, Tchitchikoff, is an official +who has struggled up ambitiously and shrewdly, through numerous +vicissitudes of bribe-taking, extortion, and ensuing discomfiture, to +a snug berth in the custom-house service, from which he is ejected +under circumstances which render further flights difficult if not impossible. +In this strait he hits upon the idea of purchasing from +landed proprietors of mediocre probity the souls who are dead, +though still nominally alive, and on whom they are forced to pay +taxes. Land is being given away gratuitously, in the southern governments +of Kherson and Tauris, to any one who will settle upon it, +as every one knows. His plan is to buy one thousand non-existent +serfs ("dead souls"), at a maximum of one hundred rubles apiece, +for colonization on an equally non-existent estate in the south, and +then, by mortgaging them to the loan bank for the nobility known +as the Council of Guardians, obtain a capital of two hundred thousand +rubles. In pursuance of this clever scheme he sets out on his +travels, visits provincial towns and the estates of landed gentry of +every shade of character, dishonesty, and financial standing, where +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 6461]</a></span> +he either buys for a song, or cajoles from them as a gift, large +numbers of "dead souls." It is unnecessary and impossible to do more +than reinforce the hint which this statement contains, by the assurance +that Gogol used to the uttermost the magnificent opportunity +thus afforded him of showing up Russian life and manners. Though +the scene of Tchitchikoff's wanderings does not include either capital, +the life there does not escape the author's notice in his asides and +illustrative arguments. It may also be said that while his talent lies +pre-eminently in the delineation of men, he does not fail in his portraits +of women; though as a rule these are more general—in the +nature of a composite photograph—than particular. The day for minute +analysis of feminine character had not arrived, and in all Gogol's +works there is, properly speaking, no such thing as the heroine playing +a first-class rôle, whether of the antique or the modern pattern.</p> + +<p>Gogol's great historical novel, 'Taras Bulba,' which deals with the +famous Kazak republic of the Dniepr Falls (Zaporózhya), stands +equally with his other volumes of the first rank in poetry, dramatic +power, and truth to life. It possesses also a force of tragedy and +passion in love which are altogether lacking, or but faintly indicated, +in his other masterpieces.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 458px;"> +<img src="images/sign231.png" width="458" height="135" alt="Isabel F. Hapgood" title="Isabel F. Hapgood" /> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="FROM_THE_INSPECTOR" id="FROM_THE_INSPECTOR"></a>FROM 'THE INSPECTOR'</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Scene: A room in the house of the Chief of Police.<br /><br /> +Present: Chief of Police, Curator of Benevolent Institutions, Superintendent of Schools, +Judge, Commissary of Police, Doctor, two Policemen.</i></p></div> + +<p><i>Chief</i>—I have summoned you, gentlemen, in order to communicate +to you an unpleasant piece of news: an Inspector +is coming.</p> + +<p><i>Judge</i>—What! An Inspector?</p> + +<p><i>Chief</i>—An Inspector from St. Petersburg, incognito. And +with secret orders, to boot.</p> + +<p><i>Judge</i>—I thought so!</p> + +<p><i>Curator</i>—If there's not trouble, then I'm mistaken!</p> + +<p><i>Superintendent</i>—Heavens! And with secret orders, too!</p> + +<p><i>Chief</i>—I foresaw it: all last night I was dreaming of two +huge rats; I never saw such rats: they were black, and of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 6462]</a></span> +supernatural size! They came, and smelled, and went away. +I will read you the letter I have received from Andrei Ivan'itch +Tchorikoff,—whom you know, Artemiy Philip'itch. This is what +he writes:—"Dear friend, gossip and benefactor!" [<i>Mutters in +an undertone, as he runs his eye quickly over it.</i>] "I hasten to +inform you, among other things, that an official has arrived with +orders to inspect the entire government, and our district in +particular." [<i>Raises his finger significantly.</i>] "I have heard this +from trustworthy people, although he represents himself as a +private individual. As I know that you are not quite free from +faults, since you are a sensible man, and do not like to let slip +what runs into your hands—" [<i>Pauses.</i>] Well, here are some +remarks about his own affairs—"so I advise you to be on your +guard: for he may arrive at any moment, if he is not already +arrived and living somewhere incognito. Yesterday—" Well, +what follows is about family matters—"My sister Anna Kirilovna +has come with her husband; Ivan Kirilitch has grown +very fat, and still plays the violin—" and so forth, and so forth. +So there you have the whole matter.</p> + +<p><i>Judge</i>—Yes, the matter is so unusual, so remarkable; something +unexpected.</p> + +<p><i>Superintendent</i>—And why? Anton Anton'itch, why is this? +Why is the Inspector coming hither?</p> + +<p><i>Chief</i> [<i>sighs</i>]—Why? Evidently, it is fate. [<i>Sighs.</i>] Up to +this time, God be praised, they have attended to other towns; +now our turn has come.</p> + +<p><i>Judge</i>—I think, Anton Anton'itch, that there is some fine +political cause at the bottom of this. This means something: +Russia—yes—Russia wants to go to war, and the minister, you +see, has sent an official to find out whether there is any treason.</p> + +<p><i>Chief</i>—What's got hold of him? A sensible man, truly! +Treason in a provincial town! Is it a border town—is it, now? +Why, you could ride away from here for three years and not +reach any other kingdom.</p> + +<p><i>Judge</i>—No, I tell you. You don't—you don't—The government +has subtle reasons; no matter if it is out of the way, +they don't care for that.</p> + +<p><i>Chief</i>—Whether they care or not, I have warned you, gentlemen. +See to it! I have made some arrangements in my own +department, and I advise you to do the same. Especially you, +Artemiy Philip'itch! Without doubt, this traveling official will +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 6463]</a></span> +wish first of all to inspect your institutions—and therefore you +must arrange things so that they will be decent. The nightcaps +should be clean, and the sick people should not look like blacksmiths, +as they usually do in private.</p> + +<p><i>Curator</i>—Well, that's a mere trifle. We can put clean nightcaps +on them.</p> + +<p><i>Chief</i>—And then, you ought to have written up over the head +of each bed, in Latin or some other language—that's your business—the +name of each disease: when each patient was taken +sick, the day and hour. It is not well that your sick people +should smoke such strong tobacco that one has to sneeze every +time he goes in there. Yes, and it would be better if there +were fewer of them: it will be set down at once to bad supervision +or to lack of skill on the doctor's part.</p> + +<p><i>Curator</i>—Oh! so far as the doctoring is concerned, Christian +Ivan'itch and I have already taken measures: the nearer to nature +the better,—we don't use any expensive medicines. Man is a +simple creature: if he dies, why then he dies; if he gets well, +why then he gets well. And then, it would have been difficult +for Christian Ivan'itch to make them understand him—he doesn't +know one word of Russian.</p> + +<p><i>Chief</i>—I should also advise you, Ammos Feodor'itch, to turn +your attention to court affairs. In the ante-room, where the +clients usually assemble, your janitor has got a lot of geese and +goslings, which waddle about under foot. Of course it is praiseworthy +to be thrifty in domestic affairs, and why should not the +janitor be so too? only, you know, it is not proper in that +place. I meant to mention it to you before, but always forgot it.</p> + +<p><i>Judge</i>—I'll order them to be taken to the kitchen this very +day. Will you come and dine with me?</p> + +<p><i>Chief</i>—And moreover, it is not well that all sorts of stuff +should be put to dry in the court-room, and that over the very +desk, with the documents, there should be a hunting-whip. I +know that you are fond of hunting, but there is a proper time +for everything, and you can hang it up there again when the +Inspector takes his departure. And then your assistant—he's a +man of experience, but there's a smell about him as though he +had just come from a distillery—and that's not as it should +be. I meant to speak to you about it long ago, but something, I +don't recall now precisely what, put it out of my mind. There +is a remedy, if he really was born with the odor, as he asserts: +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 6464]</a></span> +you might advise him to eat onions or garlic or something. In +that case, Christian Ivan'itch could assist you with some +medicaments.</p> + +<p><i>Judge</i>—No, it's impossible to drive it out: he says that his +mother injured him when he was a child, and an odor of whisky +has emanated from him ever since.</p> + +<p><i>Chief</i>—Yes, I just remarked on it. As for internal arrangements, +and what Andrei Ivan'itch in his letter calls "faults," I +can say nothing. Yes, and strange to say, there is no man who +has not his faults. God himself arranged it so, and it is useless +for the freethinkers to maintain the contrary.</p> + +<p><i>Judge</i>—What do you mean by faults, Anton Anton'itch? +There are various sorts of faults. I tell every one frankly that +I take bribes; but what sort of bribes? greyhound pups. That's +quite another thing.</p> + +<p><i>Chief</i>—Well, greyhound pups or anything else, it's all the +same.</p> + +<p><i>Judge</i>—Well, no, Anton Anton'itch. But for example, if some +one has a fur coat worth five hundred rubles, and his wife has a +shawl—</p> + +<p><i>Chief</i>—Well, and how about your taking greyhound pups as +bribes? Why don't you trust in God? You never go to church. +I am firm in the faith, at all events, and go to church every +Sunday. But you—oh, I know you! If you begin to talk about +the creation of the world, one's hair rises straight up on his head.</p> + +<p><i>Judge</i>—It came of itself, of its own accord.</p> + +<p><i>Chief</i>—Well, in some cases it is worse to have brains than +to be entirely without them. Besides, I only just mentioned the +district court: but to tell the truth, it is only very rarely that +any one ever looks in there; 'tis such an enviable place that God +himself protects it. And as for you, Luka Luk'itch, as superintendent +of schools, you must bestir yourself with regard to the +teachers. They are educated people, to be sure, and were reared +at divers academies, but they have very peculiar ways which +go naturally with that learned profession. One of them, for instance, +the fat-faced one,—I don't recall his name,—cannot get +along without making grimaces when he takes his seat;—like this +[<i>makes a grimace</i>]: and then he begins to smooth his beard out +from under his neckerchief, with his hand. In short, if he makes +such faces at the scholars, there is nothing to be said: it must +be necessary; I am no judge of that. But just consider—if he +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 6465]</a></span> +were to do that to a visitor it might be very unpleasant; the +Inspector or any one else might take it as personal. The Devil +knows what might come of it.</p> + +<p><i>Superintendent</i>—What am I to do with him? I have spoken +to him about it several times already. A few days ago, when +our chief went into the class-room, he made such a grimace as I +never beheld before. He made it out of good-will; but it is a +judgment on me, because freethinking is being inculcated in the +young people.</p> + +<p><i>Chief</i>—And I must also mention the teacher of history. He's +a wise man, that's plain, and has acquired a great mass of learning; +but he expresses himself with so much warmth that he loses +control of himself. I heard him once: well, so long as he was +talking about the Assyrians and Babylonians, it was all right; +but when he got to Alexander of Macedon, I can't describe +to you what came over him. I thought there was a fire, by +heavens! He jumped from his seat and dashed his chair to the +floor with all his might. Alexander of Macedon was a hero, no +doubt; but why smash the chairs? There will be a deficit in +the accounts, just as the result of that.</p> + +<p><i>Superintendent</i>—Yes, he is hasty! I have remarked on it to +him several times. He says, "What would you have? I would +sacrifice my life for science."</p> + +<p><i>Chief</i>—Yes, such is the incomprehensible decree of fate: a +learned man is always a drunkard, or else he makes faces that +would scare the very saints.</p> + +<p><i>Superintendent</i>—God forbid that he should inspect the educational +institutions. Everybody meddles and tries to show everybody +else that he is a learned man.</p> + +<p><i>Chief</i>—That would be nothing: that cursed incognito! All +of a sudden you hear—"Ah, here you are, my little dears! And +who," says he, "is the Judge here?"—"Lyapkin-Tyapkin."—"And +who is the Superintendent of the Hospital?"—"Zemlyanika!" +That's the worst of it!</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter</i> Postmaster</p> + +<p><i>Chief</i>—Well, how do you feel, Ivan Kusmitch?</p> + +<p><i>Postmaster</i>—How do I feel? How do <i>you</i> feel, Anton Anton'itch?</p> + +<p><i>Chief</i>—How do I feel? I'm not afraid; and yet I am,—a little. +The merchants and citizens cause me some anxiety. They +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 6466]</a></span> +say I have been hard with them; but God knows, if I have ever +taken anything from them it was not out of malice. I even +think [<i>takes him by the arm and leads him aside</i>]—I even think +there may be a sort of complaint against me. Why, in fact, is +the Inspector coming to us? Listen, Ivan Kusmitch: why can't +you—for our common good, you know—open every letter which +passes through your office, going or coming, and read it, to see +whether it contains a complaint or is simply correspondence? If +it does not, then you can seal it up again. Besides, you could +even deliver the letter unsealed.</p> + +<p><i>Postmaster</i>—I know, I know. You can't tell me anything +about that; I always do it, not out of circumspection but out of +curiosity: I'm deadly fond of knowing what is going on in the +world. It's very interesting reading, I can tell you! It is a real +treat to read some letters: they contain such descriptions of occurrences, +and they're so improving—better than the Moscow News.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>[The play proceeds: two men, the town busybodies, happen to find at +the inn a traveler who has been living on credit and going nowhere for two +weeks. The landlord is about to put his lodger in prison for debt, when these +men jump to the conclusion that he is the Inspector. The Prefect and other +terrified officials accept the suggestion, in spite of his plain statement as to +his identity. They set about making the town presentable, entertain and +bribe him, and bow down to him. He accepts their hospitality, asks loans, +makes love to the Prefect's silly wife and daughter, betroths himself to the +latter, receives the petitions and bribes of the oppressed townspeople,—and +drives off with the best post-horses the town can furnish, ostensibly to ask the +blessing of his rich old uncle on his marriage. The Postmaster intercepts a +letter which he has written to a friend. Its revelations, and the ridicule which +he therein casts on his hosts, open their eyes at last. At that moment a +gendarme appears and announces that the Inspector has arrived. Tableau.]</p></div> + +<p class="trans">Translated for 'A Library of the World's Best Literature,' by Isabel F. +Hapgood</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="OLD-FASHIONED_GENTRY" id="OLD-FASHIONED_GENTRY"></a>OLD-FASHIONED GENTRY</h3> + +<h4>From 'Mirgorod'</h4> + +<p>I am very fond of the modest life of those isolated owners of +remote estates which are generally called "old-fashioned" in +Little Russia, and which, like ruinous and picturesque houses, +are beautiful through their simplicity and complete contrast to +a new and regular building whose walls have never yet been +washed by the rain, whose roof has not yet been overgrown with +moss, and whose porch, still possessed of its stucco, does not yet +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 6467]</a></span> +display its red bricks. I can still see the low-roofed little house, +with its veranda of slender, blackened wooden columns, surrounding +it on all sides, so that in case of a thunder-storm or a hail-storm +you could close the window shutters without getting wet; +behind it fragrant wild-cherry trees, row upon row of dwarf +fruit-trees, overtopped by crimson cherries and a purple sea of +plums, covered with a lead-colored bloom, luxuriant maples under +whose shade rugs were spread for repose; in front of the house +the spacious yard, with short fresh grass, through which paths +had been worn from the storehouses to the kitchen, from the +kitchen to the apartments of the family; a long-necked goose +drinking water with her young goslings, soft as down; the picket +fence festooned with bunches of dried apples and pears, and +rugs hung out to air; a cart-load of melons standing near the +store-house, the oxen unyoked and lying lazily beside it. All +this has for me an indescribable charm,—perhaps because I no +longer see it, and because anything from which we are separated +pleases us.</p> + +<p>But more than all else, the owners of this distant nook,—an +old man and old woman,—hastening eagerly out to meet me, +gave me pleasure. Afanasy Ivanovitch Tovstogub and his wife, +Pulkheria Ivanovna Tovstogubikha, according to the neighboring +peasants' way of expressing it, were the old people of whom I +began to speak. If I were a painter and wished to depict Philemon +and Baucis on canvas, I could have found no better models +than they. Afanasy Ivanovitch was sixty years old, Pulkheria +Ivanovna was fifty-five. Afanasy Ivanovitch was tall, always wore +a short sheepskin coat covered with camlet, sat all doubled up, +and was almost always smiling, whether he were telling a story +or only listening to one. Pulkheria Ivanovna was rather serious, +and hardly ever laughed; but her face and eyes expressed so +much goodness, so much eagerness to treat you to all the best +they owned, that you would probably have found a smile too +repelling on her kind face. The delicate wrinkles were so agreeably +disposed on their countenances that an artist would certainly +have appropriated them. It seemed as though in them you might +read their whole life: the pure, peaceful life led by the old, +patriotic, simple-hearted, and at the same time wealthy families, +which always present a marked contrast to those baser Little-Russians +who work up from tar-burners and peddlers, throng the +court-rooms like grasshoppers, squeeze the last copper from their +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 6468]</a></span> +fellow-countrymen, crowd Petersburg with scandal-mongers, finally +acquire capital, and triumphantly add an <i>f</i> to their surnames +which end in <i>o</i>. No, they did not resemble those despicable and +miserable creatures, but all ancient and native Little-Russian +families.</p> + +<p>They never had any children, so all their affection was concentrated +on themselves.</p> + +<p>The rooms of the little house in which our old couple dwelt +were small, low-ceiled, such as are generally to be seen with old-fashioned +people. In each room stood a huge stove, which occupied +nearly one-third of the space. These little rooms were +frightfully hot, because both Afanasy Ivanovitch and Pulkheria +Ivanovna were fond of heat. All their fuel was stored in the +ante-room, which was always filled nearly to the ceiling with +straw, which is generally used in Little Russia in place of wood.</p> + +<p>The chairs of the room were of wood, and massive, in the +style which generally marked those of the olden times: all had +high, turned backs of natural wood, without any paint or varnish; +they were not even upholstered, and somewhat resembled +those which are still used by bishops. Triangular tables stood in +the corners, a square table stood in front of the sofa; and there +was a large mirror in a slender gilt frame, carved in foliage, +which the flies had covered with black spots; in front of the +sofa was a mat with flowers which resembled birds, and birds +which resembled flowers: and these things constituted almost the +entire furniture of the far from elegant little house where my +old people lived. The maids' room was filled with young and +elderly serving-women in striped chemises, to whom Pulkheria +Ivanovna sometimes gave trifles to sew, and whom she set to +picking over berries, but who ran about the kitchen or slept the +greater part of the time. Pulkheria Ivanovna regarded it as a +necessity that she should keep them in the house, and she kept a +strict watch of their morals; but to no purpose.</p> + +<p>Afanasy Ivan'itch very rarely occupied himself with the farming; +although he sometimes went out to see the mowers and +reapers, and gazed with great intensity at their work. All the +burden of management devolved upon Pulkheria Ivan'na. Pulkheria +Ivanovna's housekeeping consisted of a constant locking +and unlocking of the storehouse, of salting, drying, and preserving +incalculable quantities of fruits and vegetables. Her house +was exactly like a chemical laboratory. A fire was constantly +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 6469]</a></span> +laid under an apple-tree; and the kettle or the brass pan with +preserves, jelly, marmalade,—made with honey, with sugar, and +with I know not what else,—was hardly ever taken from the +tripod. Under another tree the coachman was forever distilling +vodka with peach-leaves, with wild cherry, cherry flowers, wild +gentian, or cherry-stones, in a copper still; and at the end of the +process he was never able to control his tongue, but chattered all +sorts of nonsense which Pulkheria Ivanovna did not understand, +and took himself off to the kitchen to sleep. Such a quantity of +all this stuff was preserved, salted, and dried that it would probably +have overwhelmed the whole yard at least (for Pulkheria +Ivanovna liked to lay in a store far beyond what was calculated +for consumption), if the greater part of it had not been devoured +by the maid-servants, who crept into the storehouse and overate +themselves to such a fearful extent that they groaned and +complained of their stomachs for a whole day afterwards.</p> + +<p>Both the old folks, in accordance with old-fashioned customs, +were very fond of eating. As soon as daylight dawned (they +always rose early) and the doors had begun their many-toned +concert of squeaks, they sat down at the table and drank coffee. +When Afanasy Ivanovitch had drunk his coffee, he went out, +flirted his handkerchief, and said, "Kish, kish! go away from +the veranda, geese!" In the yard he generally encountered the +steward: he usually entered into conversation with him, inquired +about the work of the estate with the greatest minuteness, and +imparted to him such a multitude of observations and orders as +would have caused any one to marvel at his understanding of +business; and no novice would have ventured to conjecture that +so acute a master could be robbed. But his steward was a clever +rascal: he knew well what answers he must give, and better still +how to manage things.</p> + +<p>This done, Afanasy Ivanovitch returned to the house, and +approaching Pulkheria Ivanovna, said, "Well, Pulkheria Ivan'na, +is it time to eat something, do you think?"</p> + +<p>"What shall we have to eat now, Afanasy Ivan'itch,—some +wheat and suet cakes, or some patties with poppy-seeds, or some +salted mushrooms?"</p> + +<p>"Some mushrooms, then, or some patties, if you please," said +Afanasy Ivan'itch; and then suddenly a table-cloth would make +its appearance on the table, with the patties and mushrooms.</p> + +<p>An hour before dinner Afanasy Ivan'itch took another snack, +and drank vodka from an ancient silver cup, ate mushrooms, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 6470]</a></span> +divers dried fishes, and other things. They sat down to dine at +twelve o'clock. There stood upon the table, in addition to the +platters and sauce-boats, a multitude of pots with covers pasted +on, that the appetizing products of the savory old-fashioned +cooking might not be exhaled abroad. At dinner the conversation +turned upon subjects closely connected with the meal.</p> + +<p>After dinner Afanasy Ivanovitch went to lie down for an +hour, at the end of which time Pulkheria Ivanovna brought him +a sliced watermelon and said, "Here, try this, Afanasy Ivan'itch; +see what a good melon it is."</p> + +<p>"Don't put faith in it because it is red in the centre, Pulkheria +Ivan'na," said Afanasy Ivanovitch, taking a good-sized +chunk. "Sometimes they are not good though they are red."</p> + +<p>But the watermelon slowly disappeared. Then Afanasy Ivanovitch +ate a few pears, and went out into the garden for a walk +with Pulkheria Ivanovna. When they returned to the house, +Pulkheria Ivanovna went about her own affairs; but he sat down +on the veranda facing the yard, and observed how the interior +of the store-room was alternately disclosed and revealed, and how +the girls jostled each other as they carried in or brought out all +sorts of stuff in wooden boxes, sieves, trays, and other receptacles +for fruit. After waiting a while, he sent for Pulkheria +Ivanovna or went in search of her himself, and said, "What is +there for me to eat, Pulkheria Ivan'na?"</p> + +<p>"What is there?" asked Pulkheria Ivanovna. "Shall I go +and tell them to bring you some curd dumplings with berries, +which I had set aside for you?"</p> + +<p>"That would be good," answered Afanasy Ivanovitch.</p> + +<p>"Or perhaps you could eat some kisel?" [A jelly-like pudding, +made of potato flour, and flavored with some sour fruit +juice.]</p> + +<p>"That is good also," replied Afanasy Invanovitch; whereupon +all of them were immediately brought and eaten in due course.</p> + +<p>Before supper Afanasy Invanovitch took another appetizing +snack.</p> + +<p>At half-past nine they sat down to supper. After supper +they went directly to bed, and universal silence settled down +upon this busy yet quiet nook.</p> + +<p>The chamber in which Afanasy Ivanovitch and Pulkheria +Ivanovna slept was so hot that very few people could have +stayed in it more than a few hours; but Afanasy Ivanovitch, for +the sake of more warmth, slept upon the stove bench, although +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 6471]</a></span> +the excessive heat caused him to rise several times in the course +of the night and walk about the room. Sometimes Afanasy Ivanovitch +groaned as he walked thus about the room.</p> + +<p>Then Pulkheria Ivanovna inquired, "Why do you groan, +Afanasy Ivan'itch?"</p> + +<p>"God knows, Pulkheria Ivan'na! It seems to me that my +stomach aches a little," said Afanasy Ivanovitch.</p> + +<p>"Hadn't you better eat something, Afanasy Ivan'itch?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know; perhaps it would be well, Pulkheria Ivan'na: +by the way, what is there to eat?"</p> + +<p>"Sour milk, or some stewed dried pears."</p> + +<p>"If you please, I will try them," said Afanasy Ivanovitch. A +sleepy maid was sent to ransack the cupboards, and Afanasy +Ivanovitch ate a plateful; after which he remarked, "Now I +seem to feel relieved."</p> + +<p>I loved to visit them; and though I over-ate myself horribly, +like all their guests, and although it was very bad for me, still +I was always glad to go to them. Besides, I think that the air +of Little Russia must possess some special properties which aid +digestion; for if any one were to undertake to eat in that way +here, there is not a doubt but that he would find himself lying +on the table a corpse, instead of in bed.</p> + +<p>Pulkheria Ivanovna had a little gray cat, which almost always +lay coiled up in a ball at her feet. Pulkheria Ivanovna stroked +her occasionally, and tickled her neck with her finger, the petted +cat stretching it out as long as possible. It would not be correct +to affirm that Pulkheria Ivanovna loved her so very much, but +she had simply become attached to her from seeing her continually +about. Afanasy Ivanovitch often joked about the attachment.</p> + +<p>Behind their garden lay a large forest, which had been spared +by the enterprising steward, possibly because the sound of the +axe might have reached the ears of Pulkheria Ivanovna. It was +dense, neglected; the old tree trunks were concealed by luxuriant +hazel-bushes, and resembled the feathered legs of pigeons. In +this wood dwelt wild cats. These cats had a long conference +with Pulkheria Ivanovna's tame cat through a hole under the +storehouse, and at last led her astray, as a detachment of soldiers +leads astray a dull-witted peasant. Pulkheria Ivanovna +noticed that her cat was missing, and caused search to be made +for her; but no cat was to be found. Three days passed; Pulkheria +Ivanovna felt sorry, but in the end forgot all about her +loss.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 6472]</a></span></p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>[The cat returns to the place half starved, and is coaxed to come into the +house and eat, but runs away on Pulkheria Ivanovna's trying to pet her.]</p></div> + +<p>The old woman became pensive. "It is my death which is +come for me," she said to herself; and nothing could cheer her. +All day she was sad. In vain did Afanasy Ivanovitch jest, and +seek to discover why she had suddenly grown so grave. Pulkheria +Ivanovna either made no reply, or one which did not +in the least satisfy Afanasy Ivanovitch. The next day she had +grown visibly thinner.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter with you, Pulkheria Ivanovna? You are +not ill?"</p> + +<p>"No, I am not ill, Afanasy Ivan'itch. I want to tell you +about a strange occurrence, I know that I shall die this year; +my death has already come for me."</p> + +<p>Afanasy Ivanovitch's mouth was distorted with pain. Nevertheless +he tried to conquer the sad feeling in his mind, and said +smiling, "God only knows what you are talking about, Pulkheria +Ivan'na! You must have drunk some of your peach infusion +instead of your usual herb tea."</p> + +<p>"No, Afanasy Ivan'itch, I have not drunk my peach infusion," +replied Pulkheria Ivanovna. "I beg of you, Afanasy Ivan'itch, to +fulfill my wishes. When I die, bury me by the church wall. +Put on me my grayish gown,—the one with the small flowers on +a cinnamon ground. My satin gown with the red stripes you +must not put on me: a corpse needs no clothes; of what use +are they to her? But it will be good for you. Make yourself +a fine dressing-gown, in case visitors come, so that you can make +a good appearance when you receive them."</p> + +<p>"God knows what you are saying, Pulkheria Ivan'na!" said +Afanasy Ivanovitch. "Death will come some time; but you +frighten me with such remarks."</p> + +<p>"Mind, Yavdokha," she said, turning to the housekeeper, whom +she had sent for expressly, "that you look after your master when +I am dead, and cherish him like the apple of your eye, like your +own child. See that everything he likes is prepared in the +kitchen; that his linen and clothes are always clean; that when +visitors happen in, you dress him properly, otherwise he will +come forth in his old dressing-gown, for he often forgets now +whether it is a festival or an ordinary day."</p> + +<p>Poor old woman! She had no thought for the great moment +which was awaiting her, nor of her soul, nor of the future life; +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 6473]</a></span> +she thought only of her poor companion, with whom she had +passed her life, and whom she was about to leave an orphan and +unprotected. After this fashion did she arrange everything with +great skill, so that after her death Afanasy Ivanovitch might +not perceive her absence. Her faith in her approaching end was +so firm, and her mind was so fixed upon it, that in a few days +she actually took to her bed, and was unable to swallow any +nourishment.</p> + +<p>Afanasy Ivanovitch was all attention, and never left her bedside. +"Perhaps you could eat something, Pulkheria Ivan'na," he +said, gazing uneasily into her eyes. But Pulkheria Ivanovna +made no reply. At length, after a long silence, she moved her +lips as though desirous of saying something—and her spirit fled.</p> + +<p>Afanasy Ivanovitch was utterly amazed. It seemed to him so +terrible that he did not even weep. He gazed at her with +troubled eyes, as though he did not understand the meaning of +a corpse.</p> + +<p>Five years passed. Being in the vicinity at the end of the +five years, I went to the little estate of Afanasy Ivanovitch, to +inquire after my old neighbor, with whom I had spent the day +so agreeably in former times, dining always on the choicest delicacies +of his kind-hearted wife. When I drove up to the door, +the house seemed twice as old as formerly; the peasants' cottages +were lying on one side, without doubt exactly like their +owners; the fence and hedge around the yard were dilapidated; +and I myself saw the cook pull out a paling to heat the stove, +when she had only a couple of steps to take in order to get the +kindling-wood which had been piled there expressly for her use. +I stepped sadly upon the veranda; the same dogs, now blind or +with broken legs, raised their bushy tails, all matted with burs, +and barked.</p> + +<p>The old man came out to meet me. So this was he! I recognized +him at once, but he was twice as bent as formerly. He +knew me, and greeted me with the smile which was so familiar +to me. I followed him into the room. All there seemed as in +the past; but I observed a strange disorder, a tangible loss of +something. In everything was visible the absence of the painstaking +Pulkheria Ivanovna. At table, they gave us a knife without +a handle; the dishes were prepared with little art. I did not +care to inquire about the management of the estate; I was even +afraid to glance at the farm buildings. I tried to interest Afanasy +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 6474]</a></span> +Ivanovitch in something, and told him divers bits of news. He +listened with his customary smile, but his glance was at times +quite unintelligent; and thoughts did not wander therein—they +simply disappeared.</p> + +<p>"This is the dish—" said Afanasy Ivanovitch when they +brought us curds and flour with cream, "—this is the dish—" +he continued, and I observed that his voice began to quiver, and +that tears were on the point of bursting from his leaden eyes; +but he collected all his strength in the effort to repress them: +"this is the dish which the—the—the de—ceas—" and his tears +suddenly gushed forth, his hand fell upon his plate, the plate +was overturned, flew from the table, and was broken. He sat +stupidly, holding the spoon, and tears like a never-ceasing fountain +flowed, flowed in streams down upon his napkin.</p> + +<p>He did not live long after this. I heard of his death recently. +What was strange, though, was that the circumstances attending +it somewhat resembled those connected with the death of Pulkheria +Ivanovna. One day, Afanasy Ivanovitch decided to take a +short stroll in the garden. As he went slowly down the path +with his usual heedlessness, a strange thing happened to him. +All at once he heard some one behind him say in a distinct +voice, "Afanasy Ivan'itch!" He turned round, but there was no +one there. He looked on all sides; he peered into the shrubbery,—no +one anywhere. The day was calm and the sun was shining +brightly. He pondered for a moment. Then his face lighted +up, and at last he cried, "It is Pulkheria Ivanovna calling me!"</p> + +<p>He surrendered himself utterly to the moral conviction that +Pulkheria Ivanovna was calling him. He yielded with the meekness +of a submissive child, withered up, coughed, melted away +like a candle, and at last expired like it when nothing remains to +feed its poor flame. "Lay me beside Pulkheria Ivan'na"—that +was all he said before his death.</p> + +<p>His wish was fulfilled; and they buried him beside the churchyard +wall close to Pulkheria Ivanovna's grave. The guests at +the funeral were few, but there was a throng of common and +poor people. The house was already quite deserted. The enterprising +clerk and village elder carried off to their cottages all +the old household utensils which the housekeeper did not manage +to appropriate.</p> + +<p class="trans">Translated for 'A Library of the World's Best Literature,' by Isabel F. +Hapgood</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 6475]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 70%;"> +<a name="GOLDONI" id="GOLDONI"></a> +<span class="caption">CARLO GOLDONI.</span> +<img src="images/goldoni.jpg" width="100%" alt="CARLO GOLDONI." title="CARLO GOLDONI." /> +</div> + +<h2><a name="CARLO_GOLDONI" id="CARLO_GOLDONI"></a>CARLO GOLDONI</h2> + +<h4>(1707-1793)</h4> + +<h4>BY WILLIAM CRANSTON LAWTON</h4> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 90px;"> +<img src="images/capi.png" width="90" height="90" alt="I" title="I" /> +</div><p class="dropcap">taly is generally felt to be, above all other lands, the natural +home of the drama. In acting, as in music, indeed, the sceptre +has never wholly passed from her: Ristori and Salvini +certainly are not yet forgotten. The Græco-Roman comedies of Plautus +and Terence, the rhetorical tragedy of Seneca, have had a far +more direct hand in molding the modern dramatists' art than have +the loftier creative masterpieces of the great Attic Four. Indeed, +Latin has never become in Italy a really dead language, remote from +the popular consciousness. The splendor of the Church ritual, the +great mass of the educated clergy, the almost purely Latin roots of +the vernacular, have made such a loss impossible.</p> + +<p>In the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries Terence and Plautus were +often revived on the stage, still oftener imitated in Latin. Many of +the greatest names in modern Italian literature are in some degree +associated with drama. Thus Machiavelli made free Italian versions +from both the comic Latin poets, and wrote a powerful though immoral +prose comedy, 'The Magic Draught' (Mandragola). Tasso's +'Aminta' is as sweet and musical, and hardly so artificial, as that +famous 'Pastor Fido' of Guarini, which has become the ideal type of +all the mock-pastoral comedy out of which the modern opera has +risen.</p> + +<p>So, when Goldoni is hailed as the father of modern Italian comedy, +it can only mean that his prolific Muse has dominated the stage +in our own century and in its native land. In his delightfully naïve +Memoirs he frequently announces himself as the leader of <i>reform</i> in +the dramatic art. And this claim is better founded; though there is +a startling discrepancy between the character, the temper, the life +of this child of the sun, and the Anglo-Saxon ideal of "Man the +Reformer" as delineated, for instance, by our own cooler-blooded +Emerson!</p> + +<p>Under the lead of Goldoni's elder contemporary Metastasio, the +lyrical drama of pastoral and artificial love had become fully wedded +to music; and it is rightly felt that the resulting modern opera +is a genus of its own, not essentially nor chiefly dramatic in character +and aims. An opera can be sung without action; it cannot be +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 6476]</a></span> +acted without music. On the other hand, the farce had become almost +restricted to the stock masked characters, Pantaloon, the Dottore, +Arlecchino, and the rest, with a narrow range of childish buffoonery +in the action. The companies of professional actors, endowed with +that marvelous power of improvisation which the very language of +Italy seems to stimulate, hardly permitted the poet to offer them +more than a mere outline of a shallow plot, to be filled in from +scene to scene at the impulse of the moment on the stage!</p> + +<p>Under these circumstances it was indeed necessary to reclaim the +rights of the dramatic poet, to reduce to decent limits the "gag" +which the comic actor has doubtless always been eager to use, and +also to educate or beguile his public up to the point of lending a +moderately attentive ear to a play of sustained interest and culminating +plot. In this seemingly modest but really most difficult task, +Goldoni scored a decided success,—a triumph.</p> + +<p>Even his checkered life as a whole was, at eighty, in his own +retrospect a happy comedy, mingled with few serious reverses and +hardly darkened at all by remorse. Such lives at best are nowise +numerous. Adequate self-portraitures of successful artists are so rare +that the autobiographies of the gentle Goldoni, and of his savage +fellow-countryman Benvenuto Cellini, almost form a class of literature +by themselves.</p> + +<p>Born in Venice in fair social position, Goldoni spent his childhood +chiefly in Chiozza, a ruder and humbler miniature of the island city +some twenty-five miles away. Though an incurable wanderer,—indeed, +so filled with the true Bohemian's feverish love for change that +he never could endure even success anywhere for many summers,—he +yet gave more of his best years, and a heartier loyalty, to Venice +than to any other home. He knew best, and delineated best, the +ordinary life of the lagoons. Mr. Howells, himself by long residence +and love a half-Venetian, declares that the comedies in the local dialect +are invariably the best, and next best the Italian plays whose +scenes are at least laid in Venice. Perhaps the critic is here himself +unduly swayed by his affections. Goldoni knew well nearly all Italian +lands. He had even, for a series of years, a career as an advocate in +Pisa. "My comic genius was not extinguished, but suppressed," he +explains. He did not even then give up play-writing, and a traveling +theatre manager easily beguiled him back to Venice. This was in +1747, and this same manager, Medebac, setting up a new theatre in +Venice, absorbed Goldoni's energies for several years. It was in 1750 +that he successfully carried out a rash vow to produce sixteen new +comedies in a single year! Among these are a goodly number of his +best, including 'The Coffee-House,' from which a few scenes are +given below.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 6477]</a></span></p> + +<p>Though he passed over into the service of a different theatre, +traveled constantly with his actors, accepted invitations to Parma, +Rome, etc., to oversee the performance of his plays, yet he never +gave up his home in Venice altogether, until summoned to Paris in +1761. These fourteen years, moreover, form the happiest period of his +life. His income from the theatres, from published editions of his +comedies, and from his inherited property, would have made him +wealthy, but for his extravagant and careless mode of life.</p> + +<p>Despite one notable success in French with the comedy 'The Surly +Benefactor' (1771), Goldoni's life in France was relatively unprofitable +and ignoble. He became Italian teacher of various royal princesses, +with the utmost uncertainty and delay as to his salaries or pensions. +Yet he could never break the fascination of Paris. The art of the +French actors was a never-failing delight to him. There, at the age +of eighty, in French, he wrote and published his 'Memoirs.' The +Revolution swept away his negligent patrons. In poverty and utter +neglect he died at last, just as the republicans were ready to restore +his royal pension.</p> + +<p>Goldoni was the child of Italy and of the eighteenth century. He +had no serious quarrel with his environment. He was not greatly +superior, in actual character or aspirations, to his associates. His +affection for his devoted wife did not save him from many a wandering +passion. The promising prima donnas, in particular, found in him +an all too devoted instructor and protector. The gaming-table and +the lottery are apparently irresistible to any true Italian, and Goldoni +knew by heart the passions which he ridicules or condemns, though +without bitterness, upon his stage. His oft-repeated claim to have +reformed the Italian theatre meant chiefly this: that between the +lyrical drama of Metastasio on the one hand, and the popular masque +with stock characters on the other,—and while contributing to both +these forms of art,—he did firmly establish the comedy of plot and +dialogue, carefully learned and rehearsed, in which the players must +speak the speech as it is pronounced to them by the poet.</p> + +<p>Goldoni himself acknowledges, perhaps not too sincerely, in his +Parisian memoirs, the superiority, the mastership, of Molière. In +truth, the great Frenchman stands, with Aristophanes and Shakespeare, +upon a lonely height quite unapproached by lesser devotees of +Thalia. We must not seek in Goldoni a prober of the human heart, +not even a fearless satirist of social conditions. In his rollicking +good-humor and content with the world as he finds it, Goldoni is +much like Plautus. He is moreover under a censorship hardly less +severe. He dares not, for instance, introduce upon his stage any +really offensive type of Venetian nobleman. As for religious dictation, +the convent must not even be mentioned, though the <i>aunt</i> with +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 6478]</a></span> +whom the young lady is visiting sometimes becomes as transparent +an idiom as the "uncle" of a spendthrift cockney! The audience, +moreover, demand only diversion, not serious instruction (as Goethe +complains, even of his grave Germans, in the 'Prolog im Theater'). +It is remarkable, under all these conditions, how healthy, how kindly, +how proper, most of Goldoni's work is. Doubtless, like Goldsmith, he +could preach the more gracefully, persuasively, and unobservedly, +because he never attempted to escape from the very vices or indulgences +that he satirizes. But even the most determined seeker for +the moral element in art will find little indeed thereof in Goldoni's +merry comedies. Incredible as it seems to us Puritans, he really +made it his mission to amuse. Thoroughly in love with the rather +ignoble, trivial life of his day, he holds the dramatic mirror up to it +with lifelong optimism and enjoyment. His wit is not keen, his +poetic imagination is slight indeed. Aside from the true dramatist's +skill in construction, in plot, his power lies chiefly in the rapid, clear, +firm outlines of his character-drawing. These characters are for the +most part just about such men and women, such creatures of impulse +and whim, such genial mingling of naughtiness and good intentions, +as we see about us. He never delineates a saint or a hero; hardly a +monster of wickedness. He had never known either, and would not +have been interested if he had. The charm of Goldoni is felt chiefly +in Venice, or at least in Italy, while listening to his comedy and +watching the enjoyment mirrored in the faces of his own audience. +It evaporates in translation, and his plays are meant only to be heard, +not read. To Mr. Howells's own affectionate testimony we may add +his happy citation from Goethe, who is writing from Venice in 1786:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Yesterday, at the theatre of St. Luke, was performed 'Le Baruffe-Chiozotte,' +which I should interpret 'The Frays and Feuds of Chiozza.' The <i>dramatis +personæ</i> are principally seafaring people, inhabitants of Chiozza, with +their wives, sisters, and daughters. The usual noisy demonstrations of such +sort of people in their good or ill luck,—their dealings one with another, their +vehemence but goodness of heart, commonplace remarks and unaffected manners, +their naive wit and humor,—all this was excellently imitated. The piece +moreover is Goldoni's, and as I had been only the day before in the place +itself, and as the tones and manners of the sailors and people of the seaport +still echoed in my ears and floated before my eyes, it delighted me very much; +and although I did not understand a single allusion, I was nevertheless, on the +whole, able to follow it pretty well.... I never witnessed anything like +the noisy delight the people evinced at seeing themselves and their mates +represented with such truth of nature. It was one continued laugh and +tumultuous shout of exultation from beginning to end.... Great praise +is due to the author, who out of nothing has here created the most amusing +<i>divertissement</i>. However, he never could have done it with any other people +than his own merry and light-hearted countrymen."</p></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 6479]</a></span></p> +<p>Of Goldoni's one hundred and sixty comedies, only a scanty handful +have been tolerably translated in English. As accessible and +agreeable an introduction as any, perhaps, is the version of four notable +plays by Miss Helen Zimmern in the series 'Masterpieces of +Foreign Authors.' The 'Memoirs' have been fairly rendered by John +Black, and this version, considerably abridged, was served up by Mr. +Howells in 1877 among his series of 'Choice Autobiographies.' Mr. +Howells's introductory essay appeared also in the Atlantic Monthly. +It has been drawn upon somewhat in the present sketch.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 800px;"> +<img src="images/sign251.png" width="800" height="60" alt="William Cranston Lawton" title="William Cranston Lawton" /> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="FIRST_LOVE_AND_PARTING" id="FIRST_LOVE_AND_PARTING"></a>FIRST LOVE AND PARTING</h3> + +<h4>From the 'Memoirs of Carlo Goldoni'</h4> + +<p>I was intrusted some time afterwards with another commission, +of a much more agreeable and amusing nature. This was to +carry through an investigation, ten leagues from the town, +into the circumstances of a dispute where firearms had been +made use of and dangerous wounds received. As the country +where this happened was flat, and the road lay through charming +estates and country-houses, I engaged several of my friends to +follow me; we were in all twelve, six males and six females, and +four domestics. We all rode on horseback, and we employed +twelve days in this delicious expedition....</p> + +<p>In this party there were two sisters, one married and the other +single. The latter was very much to my liking, and I may say +I made the party for her alone. She was as prudent and modest +as her sister was headstrong and foolish; the singularity of our +journey afforded us an opportunity of coming to an explanation, +and we became lovers.</p> + +<p>My investigation was concluded in two hours; we selected +another road for our return, to vary our pleasure.... The six +gentlemen of our party proposed another species of entertainment. +In the palace of the governor there was a theatre, which they +wished to put to some use; and they did me the honor to tell me +that they had conceived the project on my account, and they left +me the power of choosing the pieces and distributing the characters. +I thanked them, and accepted the proposition; and with +the approbation of his Excellency and my chancellor, I put myself +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 6480]</a></span> +at the head of this new entertainment. I could have wished something +comic, but I was not fond of buffoonery, and there were no +good comedies; I therefore gave the preference to tragedy. As +the operas of Metastasio were then represented everywhere, even +without music, I put the airs into recitative; I endeavored as +well as I could to approximate the style of that charming author; +and I made choice of 'Didone' and 'Siroe' for our representation. +I distributed the parts according to the characters of my actors, +whom I knew, and I reserved the worst for myself. In this I +acted wisely, for I was completely unsuited for tragedy. Fortunately, +I had composed two small pieces in which I played two +parts of character, and redeemed my reputation. The first of these +pieces was 'The Good Father,' and the second 'La Cantatrice.' +Both were approved of, and my acting was considered passable +for an amateur. I saw the last of these pieces some time afterwards +at Venice, where a young advocate thought proper to give +it out as his own work, and to receive compliments on the subject; +but having been imprudent enough to publish it with his +name, he experienced the mortification of seeing his plagiarism +unmasked.</p> + +<p>I did what I could to engage my beautiful Angelica to accept +a part in our tragedies, but it was impossible; she was timid, and +had she even been willing, her parents would not have given +their permission. She visited us; but this pleasure cost her tears, +for she was jealous, and suffered much from seeing me on such +a familiar footing with my fair companions. The poor little girl +loved me with tenderness and sincerity, and I loved her also with +my whole soul; I may say she was the first person whom I ever +loved. She aspired to become my wife, which she would have +been if certain singular reflections, that however were well +founded, had not turned me from the design. Her elder sister +had been remarkably beautiful, and after her first child she became +ugly. The youngest had the same skin and the same +features; she was one of those delicate beauties whom the air +injures, and whom the smallest fatigue or pain discomposes: of +all of which I saw a convincing proof. The fatigue of our journey +produced a visible change upon her: I was young, and if my +wife were in a short time to have lost her bloom, I foresaw what +would have been my despair. This was reasoning curiously for +a lover; but whether from virtue, weakness, or inconstancy, I +quitted Feltre without marrying her.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 6481]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="THE_ORIGIN_OF_MASKS_IN_THE_ITALIAN_COMEDY" id="THE_ORIGIN_OF_MASKS_IN_THE_ITALIAN_COMEDY"></a>THE ORIGIN OF "MASKS" IN THE ITALIAN COMEDY</h3> + +<h4>From the 'Memoirs of Carlo Goldoni'</h4> + +<p>The amateurs of the old comedy, on seeing the rapid progress +of the new, declared everywhere that it was unworthy of +an Italian to give a blow to a species of comedy in which +Italy had attained great distinction, and which no other nation +had ever yet been able to imitate. But what made the greatest +impression on the discontented was the suppression of masks, +which my system appeared to threaten. It was said that these +personages had for two centuries been the amusement of Italy, +and that it ought not to be deprived of a species of comic diversion +which it had created and so well supported.</p> + +<p>Before venturing to give any opinion on this subject, I imagine +the reader will have no objection to listen for a few minutes to +a short account of the origin, employment, and effects of these +four masks. Comedy, which in all ages has been the favorite +entertainment of polished nations, shared the fate of the arts and +sciences, and was buried under the ruins of the Empire during +the decay of letters. The germ of comedy, however, was never +altogether extinguished in the fertile bosom of Italy. Those who +first endeavored to bring about its revival, not finding in an +ignorant age writers of sufficient skill, had the boldness to draw +out plans, to distribute them into acts and scenes, and to utter +extempore the subjects, thoughts, and witticisms which they had +concerted among themselves. Those who could read (and neither +the great nor the rich were of the number) found that in the +comedies of Plautus and Terence there were always duped fathers, +debauched sons, enamored girls, knavish servants, and mercenary +maids; and, running over the different districts of Italy, they +took the fathers from Venice and Bologna, the servants from +Bergamo, and the lovers and waiting-maids from the dominions +of Rome and Tuscany. Written proofs are not to be expected of +what took place in a time when writing was not in use; but I +prove my assertion in this way: Pantaloon has always been a +Venetian, the Doctor a Bolognese, and Brighella and Harlequin +Bergamasks; and from these places, therefore, the comic personages +called the four masks of the Italian comedy were taken +by the players. What I say on this subject is not altogether +the creature of my imagination; I possess a manuscript of the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 6482]</a></span> +fifteenth century, in very good preservation and bound in parchment, +containing a hundred and twenty subjects or sketches of +Italian pieces, called comedies of art, and of which the basis of +the comic humor is always Pantaloon, a Venetian merchant; the +Doctor, a Bolognese jurisconsult; and Brighella and Harlequin, +Bergamask valets,—the first clever and sprightly, and the other +a mere dolt. Their antiquity and their long existence indicate +their origin.</p> + +<p>With respect to their employment, Pantaloon and the Doctor, +called by the Italians the two old men, represent the part of +fathers, and the other parts where cloaks are worn. The first is +a merchant, because Venice in its ancient times was the richest +and most extensively commercial country of Italy. He has +always preserved the ancient Venetian costume; the black dress +and the woolen bonnet are still worn in Venice; and the red +under-waistcoat and breeches, cut out like drawers, with red +stockings and slippers, are a most exact representation of the +equipment of the first inhabitants of the Adriatic marshes. The +beard, which was considered as an ornament in those remote +ages, has been caricatured and rendered ridiculous in subsequent +periods.</p> + +<p>The second old man, called the Doctor, was taken from among +the lawyers, for the sake of opposing a learned man to a merchant; +and Bologna was selected because in that city there +existed a university, which, notwithstanding the ignorance of the +times, still preserved the offices and emoluments of the professors. +In the dress of the Doctor we observe the ancient costume +of the university and bar of Bologna, which is nearly the same +at this day; and the idea of the singular mask which covers his +face and nose was taken from a wine stain which disfigured the +countenance of a jurisconsult in those times. This is a tradition +still existing among the amateurs of the comedy of art.</p> + +<p>Brighella and Harlequin, called in Italy the two Zani, were +taken from Bergamo; because, the former being a very sharp +fellow and the other a stupid clown, these two extremes are only +to be found among the lower orders of that part of the country. +Brighella represents an intriguing, deceitful, and knavish valet. +His dress is a species of livery; his swarthy mask is a caricature +of the color of the inhabitants of those high mountains, tanned +by the heat of the sun. Some comedians, in this character, have +taken the name of Fenocchio, Fiqueto, and Scapin; but they +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 6483]</a></span> +have always represented the same valet and the same Bergamask. +The harlequins have also assumed other names: they have been +sometimes Tracagnins, Truffaldins, Gradelins, and Mezetins; but +they have always been stupid Bergamasks. Their dress is an +exact representation of that of a poor devil who has picked up +pieces of stuffs of different colors to patch his dress; his hat corresponds +with his mendicity, and the hare's tail with which it +is ornamented is still common in the dress of the peasantry of +Bergamo.</p> + +<p>I have thus, I trust, sufficiently demonstrated the origin and +employment of the four masks of the Italian comedy; it now +remains for me to mention the effects resulting from them. The +mask must always be very prejudicial to the action of the performer, +either in joy or sorrow: whether he be in love, cross, or +good-humored, the same features are always exhibited; and however +he may gesticulate and vary the tone, he can never convey +by the countenance, which is the interpreter of the heart, the +different passions with which he is inwardly agitated. The masks +of the Greeks and Romans were a sort of speaking-trumpets, +invented for the purpose of conveying the sound through the +vast extent of their amphitheatres. Passion and sentiment were +not in those times carried to the pitch of delicacy now actually +necessary. The actor must in our days possess a soul; and the +soul under a mask is like a fire under ashes. These were the +reasons which induced me to endeavor the reform of the Italian +theatre; and to supply the place of farces with comedies. But +the complaints became louder and louder: I was disgusted with +the two parties, and I endeavored to satisfy both; I undertook to +produce a few pieces merely sketched, without ceasing to give +comedies of character. I employed the masks in the former, +and I displayed a more noble and interesting comic humor in the +others: each participated in the species of pleasure with which +they were most delighted; with time and patience I brought +about a reconciliation between them; and I had the satisfaction +at length to see myself authorized in following my own taste, +which became in a few years the most general and prevailing in +Italy. I willingly pardoned the partisans of the comedians with +masks the injuries they laid to my charge; for they were very +able amateurs, who had the merit of giving themselves an interest +to sketched comedies.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 6484]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="PURISTS_AND_PEDANTRY" id="PURISTS_AND_PEDANTRY"></a>PURISTS AND PEDANTRY</h3> + +<h4>From the 'Memoirs of Carlo Goldoni'</h4> + +<p>My journey to Parma, and the pension and diploma conferred +on me, excited the envy and rage of my adversaries. +They had reported at Venice during my absence that I +was dead; and there was a monk who had even the temerity to +say he had been at my funeral. On arriving home safe and +sound, the evil-disposed began to display their irritation at my +good fortune. It was not the authors, my antagonists, who tormented +me, but the partisans of the different theatres of Venice.</p> + +<p>I was defended by literary men, who entertained a favorable +opinion of me; and this gave rise to a warfare in which I was +very innocently the victim of the irritation which had been excited. +My system has always been never to mention the names +of my adversaries: but I cannot avoid expressing the honor +which I feel in proclaiming those of my advocates. Father +Roberti, a Jesuit, at present the Abbé Roberti, one of the most +illustrious poets of the suppressed society, published a poem in +blank verse, entitled 'Comedy'; and by dwelling on the reformation +effected by me, and analyzing several scenes in my pieces, +he encouraged his countrymen and mine to follow the example +and the system of the Venetian author. Count Verri, a Milanese, +followed the Abbé Roberti.... Other patricians of Venice +wrote in my favor, on account of the disputes which were every +day growing warmer and warmer.... Every day witnessed +some new composition for or against me; but I had this advantage,—that +those who interested themselves for me, from their +manners, their talents, and their reputation, were among the +most prudent and distinguished men in Italy.</p> + +<p>One of the articles for which I was most keenly attacked was +a violation of the purity of the language. I was a Venetian, and +I had had the disadvantage of sucking in with my mother's milk +the use of a very agreeable and seductive patois, which however +was not Tuscan. I learned by principle, and cultivated by reading, +the language of the good Italian authors; but first impressions +will return at times, notwithstanding every attention used +in avoiding them. I had undertaken a journey into Tuscany, +where I remained for four years, with the view of becoming +familiar with the language; and I printed the first edition of my +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 6485]</a></span> +works at Florence, under the eyes and the criticism of the +learned of that place, that I might purify them from errors of +language. All my precautions were insufficient to satisfy the +rigorists: I always failed in one thing or other; and I was perpetually +reproached with the original sin of Venetianism.</p> + +<p>Amidst all this tedious trifling, I recollected one day that +Tasso had been worried his whole lifetime by the Academicians +della Crusca, who maintained that his 'Jerusalem Delivered' had +not passed through the sieve which is the emblem of their society. +I was then in my closet, and I turned my eyes towards +the twelve quarto volumes of the works of that author, and exclaimed, +"Oh heavens! must no one write in the Italian language +who has not been born in Tuscany?" I turned up mechanically +the five volumes of the Dictionary della Crusca, where I found +more than six hundred words, and a number of expressions, approved +of by the academy and rejected by the world; I ran over +several ancient authors considered as classical, whom it would be +impossible to imitate in the present day without censure; and I +came to this conclusion—that we must write in good Italian, but +write at the same time so as to be understood in every corner of +Italy. Tasso was therefore wrong in reforming his poem to +please the Academicians della Crusca: his 'Jerusalem Delivered' +is read by everybody, while nobody thinks of reading his 'Jerusalem +Conquered.'</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="A_POETS_OLD_AGE" id="A_POETS_OLD_AGE"></a>A POET'S OLD AGE</h3> + +<h4>From the 'Memoirs of Carlo Goldoni'</h4> + +<p>I return to my regimen,—you will say here also, perhaps, that +I ought to omit it: you are in the right; but all this is in +my head, and I must be delivered of it by degrees; I cannot +spare you a single comma. After dinner I am not fond of +either working or walking. Sometimes I go to the theatre, but +I am most generally in parties till nine o'clock in the evening. +I always return before ten o'clock. I take two or three small +cakes with a glass of wine and water, and this is the whole of +my supper. I converse with my wife till midnight; I very soon +fall asleep, and pass the night tranquilly.</p> + +<p>It sometimes happens to me, as well as every other person, to +have my head occupied with something capable of retarding my +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 6486]</a></span> +sleep. In this case I have a certain remedy to lull myself asleep, +and it is this: I had long projected a vocabulary of the Venetian +dialect, and I had even communicated my intention to the public, +who are still in expectation of it. While laboring at this tedious +and disgusting work, I soon discovered that it threw me asleep. +I laid it therefore aside, and I profited by its narcotic faculty. +Whenever I feel my mind agitated by any moral cause, I take at +random some word of my national language and translate it into +Tuscan and French. In the same manner I pass in review all +the words which follow in the alphabetical order, and I am sure +to fall asleep at the third or fourth version. My recipe has never +once failed me. It is not difficult to demonstrate the cause and +effect of this phenomenon. A painful idea requires to be replaced +by an opposite or indifferent idea; and the agitation of the +mind once calmed, the senses become tranquil and are deadened +by sleep.</p> + +<p>But this remedy, however excellent, might not be useful to +every one. A man of too keen and feeling a disposition would +not succeed. The temperament must be such as that with which +nature has favored me. My moral qualities bear a resemblance +to my physical: I dread neither cold nor heat, and I neither +allow myself to be inflamed by rage nor intoxicated by joy....</p> + +<p>I am now arrived at the year 1787, which is the eightieth of +my age, and that to which I have limited the course of my +Memoirs. I have completed my eightieth year; my work is also +finished. All is over, and I proceed to send my volumes to the +press. This last chapter does not therefore touch on the events +of the current year; but I have still some duties to discharge. +I must begin with returning thanks to those persons who have +reposed so much confidence in me as to honor me with their +subscriptions.</p> + +<p>I do not speak of the kindness and favors of the King and +court; this is not the place to mention them. I have named in +my work some of my friends and even some of my protectors. +I beg pardon of them: if I have done so without their permission, +it is not through vanity; the occasion has suggested it; their +names have dropped from my pen, the heart has seized on the +instant, and the hand has not been unwilling. For example, the +following is one of the fortunate occasions I allude to. I was +unwell a few days ago; the Count Alfieri did me the honor to +call on me; I knew his talents, but his conversation impressed on +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 6487]</a></span> +me the wrong which I should have done in omitting him. He +is a very intelligent and learned literary man, who principally +excels in the art of Sophocles and Euripides, and after these great +models he has framed his tragedies. They have gone through +two editions in Italy, and are at present in the press of Didot at +Paris. I shall enter into no details respecting them, as they may +be seen and judged of by every one.</p> + +<p>During my convalescence M. Caccia, a banker in Paris, my +friend and countryman, sent me a book addressed to him from +Italy for me. It was a collection of French epigrams and madrigals, +translated into Italian by the Count Roncali, of the city of +Brescia in the Venetian dominions. This charming poet has +merely translated the thoughts; he has said the same things in +fewer words, and he has fallen upon as brilliant and striking +points in his own language as those of his originals.</p> + +<p>I had the honor of seeing M. Roncali twelve years ago at +Paris, and he allows me to hope that I shall have the good fortune +to see him again. This is infinitely flattering to me; but +I earnestly entreat him to make haste, as my career is far +advanced, and what is still worse, I am extremely fatigued. I +have undertaken too long and too laborious a work for my age, +and I have employed three years on it, always dreading lest I +should not have the pleasure of seeing it finished. However, I +am still in life, thanks to God, and I flatter myself that I shall +see my volumes printed, distributed, and read. If they be not +praised, I hope at least they will not be despised. I shall not be +accused of vanity or presumption in daring to hope for some +share of favor for my Memoirs; for had I thought that I should +absolutely displease, I would not have taken so much pains; and +if in the good and ill which I say of myself, the balance inclines +to the favorable side, I owe more to nature than to study. All +the application employed by me in the construction of my pieces +has been that of not disfiguring nature, and all the care taken +by me in my Memoirs has been that of telling only the truth. +The criticism of my pieces may have the correction and improvement +of comedy in view; but the criticism of my Memoirs will +be of no advantage to literature. However, if any writer should +think proper to employ his time on me for the sole purpose of +vexing me, he would lose his labor. I am of a pacific disposition; +I have always preserved my coolness of character; at my +age I read little, and I read only amusing books.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 6488]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="THE_CAFE" id="THE_CAFE"></a>THE CAFÉ</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>[A few of the opening scenes from one of the popular Venetian comedies +are here given with occasional abridgment. They illustrate the entirely practical +theatrical skill of Goldoni's plots, his rapid development of his characters, +and the sound morality which prevails without being aggressively prominent.</p> + +<p>The permanent scene represents a small open square in Venice, or a +rather wide street, with three shops. The middle one is in use as a café. To +the right is a barber's. The one on the left is a gambling-house. Beyond the +barber's, across a street, is seen the dancers' house, and beyond the gamblers' +a hotel with practicable doors and windows.]</p></div> + +<p class="center">Ridolfo, <i>master of the café</i>, Trappolo, <i>a waiter, and other waiters</i></p> + +<p><i>Ridolfo</i>—Come, children, look alive, be wide awake, ready to +serve the guests civilly and properly.</p> + +<p><i>Trappolo</i>—Master dear, to tell you the truth, this early +rising doesn't suit my complexion a bit. There's no one in sight. +We could have slept another hour yet.</p> + +<p><i>Ridolfo</i>—They'll be coming presently. Besides, 'tis not so +very early. Don't you see? The barber is open, he's in his +shop working on hair. And look! the playing-house is open too.</p> + +<p><i>Trappolo</i>—Oh, yes, indeed. The gambling-house has been +open a good bit. They've made a night of it.</p> + +<p><i>Ridolfo</i>—Good. Master Pandolfo will have had a good profit.</p> + +<p><i>Trappolo</i>—That dog always has good profit. He wins on the +cards, he profits by usury, he shares with the sharpers. He is +sure of all the money of whoever enters there. That poor Signor +Eugenio—he has taken a header!</p> + +<p><i>Ridolfo</i>—Just look at him, how little sense he has! With a +wife, a young woman of grace and sense,—but he runs after every +petticoat; and then he plays like a madman. But come, go roast +the coffee and make a fresh supply.</p> + +<p><i>Trappolo</i>—Shan't I warm over yesterday's supply?</p> + +<p><i>Ridolfo</i>—No, make it good.</p> + +<p><i>Trappolo</i>—Master has a short memory. How long since this +shop opened?</p> + +<p><i>Ridolfo</i>—You know very well. 'Tis about eight months.</p> + +<p><i>Trappolo</i>—Then 'tis time for a change.</p> + +<p><i>Ridolfo</i>—What do you mean by that?</p> + +<p><i>Trappolo</i>—When a new shop opens, they make perfect coffee. +After six months,—hot water, thin broth. [<i>Exit.</i>]</p> + +<p><i>Ridolfo</i>—He's a wit. I'm in hopes he'll help the shop. To +a shop where there's a fun-maker every one goes.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 6489]</a></span></p> + +<p class="center">Pandolfo, <i>keeper of the gambling-house, comes in, rubbing his eyes +sleepily</i></p> + +<p><i>Ridolfo</i>—Master Pandolfo, will you have coffee?</p> + +<p><i>Pandolfo</i>—Yes, if you please.</p> + +<p><i>Ridolfo</i>—Boys, serve coffee for Master Pandolfo. Be seated. +Make yourself comfortable.</p> + +<p><i>Pandolfo</i>—No, no, I must drink it at once and get back to +work.</p> + +<p><i>Ridolfo</i>—Are they playing yet in the shop?</p> + +<p><i>Pandolfo</i>—They are busy at two tables.</p> + +<p><i>Ridolfo</i>—So early?</p> + +<p><i>Pandolfo</i>—They are at it since yesterday.</p> + +<p><i>Ridolfo</i>—What game?</p> + +<p><i>Pandolfo</i>—An innocent game: "first and second" [<i>i.e.</i>, faro].</p> + +<p><i>Ridolfo</i>—And how does it go?</p> + +<p><i>Pandolfo</i>—For me it goes well.</p> + +<p><i>Ridolfo</i>—Have you amused yourself playing too?</p> + +<p><i>Pandolfo</i>—Yes, I took a little hand also.</p> + +<p><i>Ridolfo</i>—Excuse me, my friend; I've no business to meddle in +your affairs, but—it doesn't look well when the master of the +shop plays; because if he loses he's laughed at, and if he wins +he's suspected.</p> + +<p><i>Pandolfo</i>—I am content if they haven't the laugh on me. As +for the rest, let them suspect as they please; I pay no attention.</p> + +<p><i>Ridolfo</i>—Dear friend, we are neighbors; I shouldn't want you +to get into trouble. You know, by your play before you have +brought up in the court.</p> + +<p><i>Pandolfo</i>—I'm easily satisfied. I won a pair of sequins, and +wanted no more.</p> + +<p><i>Ridolfo</i>—That's right. Pluck the quail without making it cry +out. From whom did you win them?</p> + +<p><i>Pandolfo</i>—A jeweler's boy.</p> + +<p><i>Ridolfo</i>—Bad. Very bad. That tempts the boys to rob their +masters.</p> + +<p><i>Pandolfo</i>—Oh, don't moralize to me. Let the greenhorns stay +at home. I keep open for any one who wants to play.</p> + +<p><i>Ridolfo</i>—And has Signor Eugenio been playing this past +night?</p> + +<p><i>Pandolfo</i>—He's playing yet. He hasn't dined, he hasn't slept, +and he's lost all his money.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 6490]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Ridolfo</i> [<i>aside</i>]—Poor young man! [<i>Aloud.</i>] And how much +has he lost?</p> + +<p><i>Pandolfo</i>—A hundred sequins in cash: and now he is playing +on credit.</p> + +<p><i>Ridolfo</i>—With whom is he playing?</p> + +<p><i>Pandolfo</i>—With the count.</p> + +<p><i>Ridolfo</i>—And whom else?</p> + +<p><i>Pandolfo</i>—With him alone.</p> + +<p><i>Ridolfo</i>—It seems to me an honest man shouldn't stand by +and see people assassinated.</p> + +<p><i>Pandolfo</i>—Oho, my friend, if you're going to be so thin-skinned +you'll make little money.</p> + +<p><i>Ridolfo</i>—I don't care for that. Till now I have been in service, +and did my duty honestly. I saved a few pennies, and with +the help of my old master, who was Signor Eugenio's father, +you know, I have opened this shop. With it I mean to live +honorably and not disgrace my profession.</p> + +<p class="center">[<i>People from the gambling-shop call "Cards!"</i>]</p> + +<p><i>Pandolfo</i> [<i>answering</i>]—At your service.</p> + +<p><i>Ridolfo</i>—For mercy's sake, get poor Signor Eugenio away +from the table.</p> + +<p><i>Pandolfo</i>—For all me, he may lose his shirt: I don't care. +[<i>Starts out.</i>]</p> + +<p><i>Ridolfo</i>—And the coffee—shall I charge it?</p> + +<p><i>Pandolfo</i>—Not at all: we'll deal a card for it.</p> + +<p><i>Ridolfo</i>—I'm no greenhorn, my friend.</p> + +<p><i>Pandolfo</i>—Oh well, what does it matter? You know my visitors +make trade for you. I am surprised that you trouble yourself +about these little matters. [<i>Exit.</i>] ...</p> + +<p class="center"><i>A gentleman,</i> Don Marzio, <i>enters</i></p> + +<p><i>Ridolfo</i> [<i>aside</i>]—Here is the man who never stops talking, +and always must have it his own way.</p> + +<p><i>Marzio</i>—Coffee.</p> + +<p><i>Ridolfo</i>—At once, sir.</p> + +<p><i>Marzio</i>—What's the news, Ridolfo?</p> + +<p><i>Ridolfo</i>—I couldn't say, sir.</p> + +<p><i>Marzio</i>—Has no one appeared here at your café yet?</p> + +<p><i>Ridolfo</i>—'Tis quite early still.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 6491]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Marzio</i>—Early? It has struck nine already.</p> + +<p><i>Ridolfo</i>—Oh no, honored sir, 'tis not seven yet.</p> + +<p><i>Marzio</i>—Get away with your nonsense.</p> + +<p><i>Ridolfo</i>—I assure you, it hasn't struck seven yet.</p> + +<p><i>Marzio</i>—Get out, stupid.</p> + +<p><i>Ridolfo</i>—You abuse me without reason, sir.</p> + +<p><i>Marzio</i>—I counted the strokes just now, and I tell you it is +nine. Besides, look at my watch: it never goes wrong. [<i>Shows it.</i>]</p> + +<p><i>Ridolfo</i>—Very well, then; if your watch is never wrong,—it +says a quarter to seven.</p> + +<p><i>Marzio</i>—What? That can't be. [<i>Takes out his eye-glass and +looks.</i>]</p> + +<p><i>Ridolfo</i>—What do you say?</p> + +<p><i>Marzio</i>—My watch is wrong. It is nine o'olock. I heard it.</p> + +<p><i>Ridolfo</i>—Where did you buy that watch?</p> + +<p><i>Marzio</i>—I ordered it from London.</p> + +<p><i>Ridolfo</i>—They cheated you.</p> + +<p><i>Marzio</i>—Cheated me? How so? It is the very first quality.</p> + +<p><i>Ridolfo</i>—If it were a good one, it wouldn't be two hours +wrong.</p> + +<p><i>Marzio</i>—It is always exactly right.</p> + +<p><i>Ridolfo</i>—But the watch says a quarter to seven, and you say +it is nine.</p> + +<p><i>Marzio</i>—My watch is right.</p> + +<p><i>Ridolfo</i>—Then it really is a little before seven, as I said.</p> + +<p><i>Marzio</i>—You're an insolent fellow. My watch is right: you +talk foolishly, and I've half a mind to box your ears. [<i>His coffee +is brought.</i>]</p> + +<p><i>Ridolfo</i> [<i>aside</i>]—Oh, what a beast!</p> + +<p><i>Marzio</i>—Have you seen Signor Eugenio?</p> + +<p><i>Ridolfo</i>—No, honored sir.</p> + +<p><i>Marzio</i>—At home, of course, petting his wife. What an +uxorious fellow! Always a wife! Always a wife! [<i>Drinks his +coffee.</i>]</p> + +<p><i>Ridolfo</i>—Anything but his wife. He's been gambling all +night at Pandolfo's.</p> + +<p><i>Marzio</i>—Just as I tell you. Always gambling.</p> + +<p><i>Ridolfo</i> [<i>aside</i>]—"Always gambling," "Always his wife," +"Always" the Devil; I hope he'll catch him!</p> + +<p><i>Marzio</i>—He came to me the other day in all secrecy, to +beg me to lend him ten sequins on a pair of earrings of his +wife's.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 6492]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Ridolfo</i>—Well, you know, every man is liable to have these +little difficulties; but they don't care to have them known, and +that is doubtless why he came to you, certain that you would +tell no one.</p> + +<p><i>Marzio</i>—Oh, I say nothing. I help all, and take no credit +for it. See! Here are his wife's earrings. I lent him ten +sequins on them. Do you think I am secured?</p> + +<p><i>Ridolfo</i>—I'm no judge, but I think so.</p> + +<p><i>Marzio</i>—Halloa, Trappolo. [<i>Trappolo enters.</i>] Here; go to +the jeweler's yonder, show him these earrings of Signor Eugenio's +wife, and ask him for me if they are security for ten sequins +that I lent him.</p> + +<p><i>Trappolo</i>—And it doesn't harm Signor Eugenio to make his +affairs public?</p> + +<p><i>Marzio</i>—I am a person with whom a secret is safe. [<i>Exit +Trappolo.</i>] Say, Ridolfo, what do you know of that dancer over +there?</p> + +<p><i>Ridolfo</i>—I really know nothing about her.</p> + +<p><i>Marzio</i>—I've been told the Count Leandro is her protector.</p> + +<p><i>Ridolfo</i>—To be frank, I don't care much for other people's +affairs.</p> + +<p><i>Marzio</i>—But 'tis well to know things, to govern one's self +accordingly. She has been under his protection for some time +now, and the dancer's earnings have paid the price of the protection. +Instead of spending anything, he devours all the poor +wretch has. Indeed, he forces her to do what she should not. +Oh, what a villain!</p> + +<p><i>Ridolfo</i>—But I am here all day, and I can swear that no one +goes to her house except Leandro.</p> + +<p><i>Marzio</i>—It has a back door. Fool! Fool! Always the back +door. Fool!</p> + +<p><i>Ridolfo</i>—I attend to my shop: if she has a back door, what +is it to me? I put my nose into no one's affairs.</p> + +<p><i>Marzio</i>—Beast! Do you speak like that to a gentleman of +my station?</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>[This character of Don Marzio the slanderer is the most effective one +in the comedy. He finally brings upon himself the bitterest ill-will of all +the other characters, and feels himself driven out of Venice, "a land in which +all men live at ease, all enjoy liberty, peace, and amusement, if only they +know how to be prudent, discreet, honorable."]</p></div> + +<p class="trans">Translated for 'A Library of the World's Best Literature,' by William C. Lawton</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 6493]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="MEIR_AARON_GOLDSCHMIDT" id="MEIR_AARON_GOLDSCHMIDT"></a>MEÏR AARON GOLDSCHMIDT</h2> + +<h4>(1819-1887)</h4> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 90px;"> +<img src="images/capi.png" width="90" height="90" alt="I" title="I" /> +</div><p class="dropcap">n the first line of his memoirs Goldschmidt states that he +was of "the tribe of Levi," a fact of which he was never +unconscious, and which has given him his peculiar position +in modern Danish literature as the exponent of the family and social +life of the orthodox Jew. Brandes writes of Goldschmidt that: "In +spite of his cosmopolitan spirit, he has always loved two nationalities +above all others and equally well,—the Jewish and the Danish. He +has looked upon himself as a sort of noble-born bastard; and with +the bat of the fable he has said alternately +to the mice, 'I am a mouse' and to the +birds, 'I have wings.' He has endeavored +to give his answer to the questions of the +Jew's place in modern culture."</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 170px;"> +<img src="images/goldschmidt.png" width="170" height="211" alt="Goldschmidt" title="Goldschmidt" /> +<span class="caption"><span class="smcap">Goldschmidt</span></span> +</div> + +<p>Goldschmidt was born on the 26th of +October, 1819. His early childhood was +spent partly in the country, in the full freedom +of country life, and partly in the city, +where he was sent to school in preparation +for the professional career his father had +planned for him, in preference to a business +life like his own. Goldschmidt took part +in the religious instruction of the school, at +the same time observing the customs of the +Jewish ritual at home without a full understanding of its meaning,—somewhat +as he was taught to read Hebrew without being able to +translate a word of it into Danish. In the senior class his religious +instructor let him join in the Bible reading, but refused to admit him +to the catechism class; as a consequence he failed to answer a few +questions on his examination papers, and fell just short of a maximum. +This made him feel that he was ostracized by his Jewish +birth, and put an end to his desire for further academic studies.</p> + +<p>At the age of eighteen he began his journalistic career as editor +of a provincial paper, the care of which cost him a lawsuit and subjected +him to a year's censorship. Soon after, he sold the paper for +two hundred dollars, and with this money he started the Copenhagen +weekly The Corsair, which in no time gained a large reading public, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 6494]</a></span> +and whose Friday appearance was awaited with weekly increasing +interest. The editorials were given up to aesthetic and poetic discussions, +and the small matter treated the questions of the day +with a pointed wit that soon made The Corsair as widely feared +as it was eagerly read. He had reached only the third number when +it was put under censorship, and lawsuits followed in quick succession. +Goldschmidt did not officially assume the responsibility of +editor, although it was an open secret that he was author of most of +the articles; publicly the blows were warded off by pretended owners +whose names were often changed. One of the few men whom The +Corsair left unattacked was Sören Kierkegaard, for whose literary and +scholarly talents Goldschmidt had great respect. That The Corsair +was under the ban of the law, so to speak, and had brought him +even a four-days' imprisonment, was a small matter to Goldschmidt; +but when Kierkegaard passed a scathing moral judgment on the paper, +Goldschmidt sold out for four thousand dollars and started with this +sum on his travels, "to get rid of wit and learn something better."</p> + +<p>In 1847 he was again back in Copenhagen, and began life anew as +editor of North and South, a weekly containing excellent aesthetic +and critical studies, but mainly important on account of its social +and political influence. Already, in the time of The Corsair, Goldschmidt +had begun his work as novelist with 'A Jew,' written in +1843-45, and had taken possession of the field which became his own. +It was a promising book, that met with immediate appreciation. +Even Kierkegaard forgot for a moment the editor of The Corsair in +his praise. The Jews, however, looked upon the descriptions of intimate +Jewish family life somewhat as a desecration of the Holy of +Holies; and if broad-minded enough to forgive this, thought it unwise +to accentuate the Jew's position as an element apart in social life. +It argues a certain narrowness in Goldschmidt that he has never +been able to refrain from striking this note, and Brandes blames him +for the bad taste of "continually serving his grandmother with sharp +sauce."</p> + +<p>Goldschmidt wrote another long novel, 'Homeless'; but it is principally +in his shorter works, such as 'Love Stories from Many Countries' +'Maser,' and 'Avromche Nightingale,' that he has left a great +and good gift to Danish literature. The shorter his composition, the +more perfect was his treatment. He was above all a stylist.</p> + +<p>He always had a tendency to mysticism, and in his last years +he was greatly taken up with his theory of Nemesis, on which he +wrote a book, containing much that is suggestive but also much that +is obviously the result of the wish to make everything conform to a +pet theory. His lasting importance will be as the first and foremost +influence on modern Danish prose.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 6495]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="ASSAR_AND_MIRJAM" id="ASSAR_AND_MIRJAM"></a>ASSAR AND MIRJAM</h3> + +<h4>From 'Love Stories from Many Countries'</h4> + +<p>Assar, son of Juda, a valiant and jealous youth, came walking +toward Modin, when from one of the hills he saw a great +sight on the plain. Here warriors rode a chariot race in +a great circle; many people stood about, calling loudly to the +drivers and the spirited horses. Yonder were horsemen in golden +armor, trying to catch rings on their spears; and drums were +beaten in honor of the winner. On the outskirts of the plain +was a little grove of olive-trees; it was not dense. In the grove +stood a nude woman hewn in marble; her hair was of gold and +her eyes were black, and young girls danced around her with +garlands of flowers.</p> + +<p>Then Assar said:—"Woe unto us! These are Jewish maidens +dancing around the idol, and these are Greek men carrying arms +on our holy ground and playing at games as if they were in their +home! and no Jewish man makes the game dangerous for them!"</p> + +<p>He went down the hill and came to a thicket reaching down +to a little brook. On the other side of the brook stood a Greek +centurion, a young man, and he was talking to a girl, who stood +on this side of the brook on the edge of the thicket.</p> + +<p>The warrior said:—"Thou sayest that thy God forbids thee to +go over into the grove. What a dark and unfriendly God they +have given thee, beautiful child of Juda! He hates thy youth, +and the joy of life, and the roses which ought to crown thy +black hair. My gods are of a friendlier mind toward mortals. +Every morning Apollo drives his glorious span over the arch of +the heavens and lights warriors to their deeds; Selene's milder +torch glows at night for lovers, and to those who have worshiped +her in this life beautiful Aphrodite gives eternal life on her +blessed isle. It is her statue standing in the grove. When thou +givest thyself under her protection she gives thee in return a +hero for thy faithful lover, and later on, graceful daughter of +Juda, some god will set thee with thy radiant eyes among the +stars, to be a light to mortals and a witness of the beauty of +earthly love."</p> + +<p>The young girl might have answered; but at this moment +Assar was near her, and she knew him, and he saw that it was +Mirjam, Rabbi Mattathew's daughter,—the woman he loved, and +who was his promised bride. She turned and followed him; but +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 6496]</a></span> +the warrior on the other side of the brook called out, "What +right hast thou to lead this maiden away?"</p> + +<p>Assar replied, "I have no right."</p> + +<p>"Then why dost thou go with him, sweet daughter of Juda?" +cried the warrior.</p> + +<p>Mirjam did not answer, but Assar said, "Because she has not +yet given up serving her Master."</p> + +<p>"Who is her master?" asked the warrior. "I can buy thee +freedom, my beautiful child!"</p> + +<p>Assar replied, "I wish thou may'st see him."<a name="FNanchor_A_5" id="FNanchor_A_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_5" class="fnanchor">[E]</a></p> + +<p>The warrior, who could not cross the brook at this place, or +anywhere near it, called as they went away, "Tell me thy master's +name!"</p> + +<p>Assar turned and answered, "I will beg him come to thee."</p> + +<p>A hill hid them from the eyes of the warrior, and Mirjam +said, "Assar!"</p> + +<p>Assar replied, "Mirjam! I have never loved thee as dearly +as I do to-day—I do not know if it is a curse or a blessing +which is in my veins. Thou hast listened to the words of the +heathen."</p> + +<p>"I listened to them because he spoke kindly; but I have not +betrayed the Lord nor thee."</p> + +<p>"Thou hast permitted his words to reach thy ear and thy +soul."</p> + +<p>"What could I do, Assar? He spoke kindly."</p> + +<p>Assar stood still, and said to himself, "Yes, he spoke kindly. +They do speak kindly. And they spoke kind words to the poor +girls who danced around the idol in the grove. Had they spoken +harsh and threatening words, they would not have danced."</p> + +<p>Again he stood still, and said to himself, "If they came using +force, the rabbi would kill her and then himself, or she would +throw herself from a rock of her own free will. But who can +set a guard to watch over kind words?"</p> + +<p>The third time he stood still, and said, "O Israel, thou canst +not bear kind words!"</p> + +<p>Mirjam thought that he suspected her; and she stood still +and said, "I am a rabbi's daughter!"</p> + +<p>Assar replied, "O Mirjam, I am Assar, and I will be the son +of my own actions."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 6497]</a></span></p> + +<p>"For God's sake," exclaimed Mirjam, "do not seek that warrior, +and do not enter into a quarrel with him! He will kill thee +or have thee put into prison. There is misery enough in Israel! +The strangers have entered our towns. Let us bend our heads +and await the will of God, but not challenge! Assar, I should +die if anything happened to thee!"</p> + +<p>"And what would I do if anything happened to thee! My +head swims! Whither should I flee? Would thy father and thy +brothers flee to the wilds of the mountains?"</p> + +<p>"They have spoken of that. But there is no place to flee to +and not much to flee from; for although the heathen have taken +gold and goods, yet they are kind this time."</p> + +<p>Assar replied, "Oh yes, they are kind; I had almost forgotten +it. Mirjam, if I go away wilt thou believe, and go on believing, +that I go on God's errand?"</p> + +<p>"Assar, a dark look from thee is dearer to me than the kindest +from any heathen, and a word of thine is more to me than +many witnesses. But do not leave me! Stay and protect me!"</p> + +<p>"I go to protect thee! I go to the heights and to the depths +to call forth the God of Israel. Await his coming!" ...</p> + +<p>Assar went to the King, Antiochus Epiphanes, bent low before +him, and said, "May the Master of the world guide thy steps!"</p> + +<p>The King looked at him well pleased, and asked his name; +whereupon Assar answered that he was a man of the tribe of +Juda.</p> + +<p>The King said, "Few of thy countrymen come to serve me!"</p> + +<p>Assar replied, "If thou wilt permit thy servant a bold word, +King, the fault is thine."</p> + +<p>And when the King, astonished, asked how this might be, +Assar answered, "Because thou art too kind, lord."</p> + +<p>The King turned to his adviser, and said laughingly, "When +we took the treasures of the temple in Jerusalem, they found it +hard enough."</p> + +<p>"O King," said Assar, "silver and gold and precious stones +can be regained, and the Israelites know this; but thou lettest +them keep that which cannot be regained when once it is lost."</p> + +<p>The King answered quickly, "What is that?" and Assar replied:—"The +Israelites have a God, who is very powerful but +also very jealous. He has always helped them in the time of +need if they held near to him and did not worship strange gods; +for this his jealousy will not bear. When they do this he +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 6498]</a></span> +forsakes them. But thou, O King, hast taken their silver and +gold and jewels, but hast let them keep the God who gives it all +back to them. They know this; and so they smile at thee, and +await that thou shalt be thrown into the dust by him, and they +will arise his avengers, and persecute thy men."</p> + +<p>The King paled; he remembered his loss in Egypt, and he +feared that if the enemy pursued him he should find help in +Israel; and he said, "What ought we to do?"</p> + +<p>Assar replied: "If thou wilt permit thy servant to utter his +humble advice, thou shouldst use severity and forbid their praying +to the God they call Jehovah, and order them to pray to thy +gods."</p> + +<p>The King's adviser looked at Assar and asked, "Hast thou +offered up sacrifice to our gods?"</p> + +<p>Assar replied, "I am ready."</p> + +<p>They led him to the altar, and on the way thither Assar +said:—"Lord, all-powerful God! Thou who seest the heart and +not alone the deeds of the hand, be my witness! It is written: +'And it shall happen in that same hour that I shall wipe out the +name of idols out of the land, and they shall be remembered +no more, and the unclean spirit shall I cause to depart from the +country.' Do thou according to thy word, O Lord! Amen!"</p> + +<p>When the sacrifice was brought, Assar was dressed in festive +robes on the word of the King, and a place was given him +among the King's friends, and orders were sent out throughout +the country, according to what he had said.</p> + +<p>And to Modin too came the King's messenger; and when the +rabbi heard of it, he went with his five sons to the large prayer-house, +and read maledictions over those who worshiped idols and +blessings over those who were faithful to Jehovah. And those +who were present noticed that the rabbi's eldest son, Judas Maccabæus, +carried a sword under his mantle.</p> + +<p>And when they came out of the prayer-house they saw that a +heathen altar had been built, and there was a Jew making his +sacrifice; and when Rabbi Mattathew saw this, he hastened to the +spot and seized the knife of sacrifice and thrust it into the Jew's +breast. The centurion who stood by, and who was the same that +had previously talked to Mirjam the rabbi's daughter at the +brook, would kill the rabbi; but Judas Maccabæus drew his +sword quickly, and struck the centurion in the throat and killed +him. Then the King's men gathered; but the street was narrow, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 6499]</a></span> +and Judas Maccabæus went last and shielded all, until the night +came and they had got their women together and could flee to +the mountains. And then began the fight of the men of Juda +against the Macedonians, the Greeks, and the Assyrians, and they +killed those of the King's men who pursued them into the mountains.</p> + +<p>Then King Antiochus the temple-robber said to Assar, "This +is thy advice!" to which Assar replied: "No, King; this is the +advice of thy warriors, since they allow the rebels to escape and +do not treat them without mercy. For this know, O King, that +so long as thou art merciful to this people there is no hope."</p> + +<p>Then there were issued strict orders to torture and kill all +who refused to obey the King's command; and all those in Israel +in whom Jehovah was still living rose to fight with Mattathew +and his sons, and men and women, yea, children even, were +moved to suffer death for the Lord and his law.</p> + +<p>But at this time it happened that King Antiochus the temple-destroyer +was visited by his shameful disease, and he sent messengers +with rich gifts to all oracles and temples to seek help; +but they could find none.</p> + +<p>Then he said to Assar, "Thou saidst once that the God of +Israel was a mighty God; could not <i>he</i> cure me of my disease?"</p> + +<p>Assar replied: "I have indeed heard from my childhood that +the God of Israel is a mighty God; but O King, thou wilt not +give in to that hard people and make peace with their God?"</p> + +<p>The King answered, "I must live! How can he be pacified?"</p> + +<p>Assar said, "It is too heavy a sacrifice for so great a king +as thee. Their wise men assert that God has given them the +country for a possession, and it would be necessary for thee not +only to allow them to worship their God, but also to call back +thy men and make a covenant with them so that they should +merely pay a tribute to thee. But this is more than I can +advise."</p> + +<p>The King answered, "Much does a man give for his life. +Dost thou believe that he is a great God?"</p> + +<p>"I have seen a great proof of it, lord."</p> + +<p>"What is that?"</p> + +<p>"This: that even a greatness like thine was as nothing to his."</p> + +<p>"It is not a dishonor to be smaller than the Immortals. Go +and prepare all, according to what we have spoken."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 6500]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then Assar prepared all and had the King's men called back, +and promised the inhabitants peace and led the King on his way +to Jerusalem; and they passed by Modin.</p> + +<p>And the King's sufferings being very great, he had himself +carried into the house of prayers, before the holy, and he prayed +to the God of Israel. And the men of Juda stood around him; +they stood high and he lay low, and they had saved their souls.</p> + +<p>But when the King was carried out, one of the Maccabæan +warriors recognized Assar and cried out, "Thou hast offered up +sacrifices to idols, and from thee have come the evil counsels +which have cost precious blood! Thou shalt be wiped off the +earth!"</p> + +<p>He drew his sword and aimed at him, but Mirjam, who had +come up, threw herself between them with the cry, "He called +forth Israel's God!" And the steel which was meant for him +pierced her.</p> + +<p class="trans">Translated for 'A Library of the World's Best Literature,' by Olga Flinch.</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 6501]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 70%;"> +<a name="GOLDSMITH" id="GOLDSMITH"></a> +<span class="caption">O. GOLDSMITH.</span> +<img src="images/goldsmith.jpg" width="100%" alt="O. GOLDSMITH." title="O. GOLDSMITH." /> +</div> + +<h2><a name="OLIVER_GOLDSMITH" id="OLIVER_GOLDSMITH"></a>OLIVER GOLDSMITH</h2> + +<h4>(1728-1774)</h4> + +<h4>BY CHARLES MILLS GAYLEY</h4> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 90px;"> +<img src="images/capo.png" width="90" height="90" alt="O" title="O" /> +</div><p class="dropcap">liver Goldsmith was born at Pallas, County Longford, Ireland, +November 10th, 1728. That was the year in which +Pope issued his 'Dunciad,' Gay his 'Beggar's Opera,' and +Thomson his 'Spring.' Goldsmith's father was a clergyman of the +Established Church. In 1730 the family removed to Lissoy, a better +living than that of Pallas. Oliver's school days in and around Westmeath +were unsatisfactory; so also his course at Trinity, 1744 to 1749. +For the next two years he loafed at Ballymahon, living on his mother, +then a widow, and making vain attempts to take orders, to teach, to +enter a law course, to sail for America. He was a bad sixpence. +Finally his uncle Contarine, who saw good stuff in the awkward, +ugly, humorous, and reckless youth, got him off to Edinburgh, where +he studied medicine till 1754.</p> + +<p>In 1754 he is studying, or pretending to study, at Leyden. In 1755 +and 1756 he is singing, fluting, and otherwise "beating" his way +through Europe, whence he returns with a mythical M. B. degree. +From 1756 to 1759 he is in London, teaching, serving an apothecary, +practicing medicine, reading proof, writing as a hack, planning to practice +surgery in Coromandel, failing to qualify as a hospital mate, and +in general only not starving. In 1759 Dr. Percy finds him in Green +Arbor Court amid a colony of washerwomen, writing an 'Enquiry +into the Present State of Polite Learning in Europe.' Next follows +the appearance of that work, and his acquaintance with publishers +and men of letters. In 1761, with Percy, comes Johnson to visit him. +In 1764 Goldsmith is one of the members of the famous Literary Club, +where he counts among his friends, besides Percy and Johnson, Reynolds, +Boswell, Garrick, Burke, and others who shone with their own +or reflected light. The rest of his life, spent principally in or near +London, is associated with his literary career. He died April 4th, +1774, and was buried near the Temple Church.</p> + +<p>Goldsmith was an essayist and critic, a story-writer, a poet, a +comic dramatist, and a literary drudge: the last all the time, the +others "between whiles." His drudgery produced such works as the +'Memoirs of Voltaire,' the 'Life of Nash,' two Histories of England, +Histories of Rome and Greece, Lives of Parnell and Bolingbroke. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 6502]</a></span> +The 'History of Animated Nature' was undertaken as an industry, +but it reads, as Johnson said, "like a Persian tale,"—and of course, +the more Persian the less like nature. For the prose of Goldsmith +writing for a suit of clothes or for immortality is all of a piece, +inimitable. "Nothing," says he, in his 'Essay on Taste,' "has been +so often explained, and yet so little understood, as simplicity in writing.... +It is no other than beautiful nature, without affectation +or extraneous ornament."</p> + +<p>This ingenuous elegance is the accent of Goldsmith's work in +verse and prose. It is nature improved, not from without but by +exquisite and esoteric art, the better to prove its innate virtue and +display its artless charm. Such a style is based upon a delicate +"sensibility to the graces of natural and moral beauty and decorum." +Hence the ideographic power, the directness, the sympathy, the +lambent humor that characterize the 'Essays,' the 'Vicar,' the 'Deserted +Village,' and 'She Stoops to Conquer.' This is the "plain +language of ancient faith and sincerity" that, pretending to no +novelty, renovated the prose of the eighteenth century, knocked the +stilts from under Addison and Steele, tipped half the Latinity out of +Johnson, and readjusted his ballast. Goldsmith goes without sprawling +or tiptoeing; he sails without rolling. He borrows the carelessness +but not the ostentation of the Spectator; the dignity but not the +ponderosity of 'Rasselas'; and produces the prose of natural ease, +the sweetest English of the century. It in turn prefaced the way +for Charles Lamb, Hunt, and Sydney Smith. "It were to be wished +that we no longer found pleasure with the inflated style," writes +Goldsmith in his 'Polite Learning.' "We should dispense with loaded +epithet and dressing up trifles with dignity.... Let us, instead +of writing finely, try to write naturally; not hunt after lofty expressions +to deliver mean ideas, nor be forever gaping when we only +mean to deliver a whisper."</p> + +<p>Just this naturalness constitutes the charm of the essay on 'The +Bee' (1759), and of the essays collected in 1765. We do not read him +for information: whether he knows more or less of his subject, +whether he writes of Charles XII., or Dress, The Opera, Poetry, or +Education, we read him for simplicity and humor. Still, his critical +estimates, while they may not always square with ours, evince not +only good sense and æsthetic principle, but a range of reading not +at all ordinary. When he condemns Hamlet's great soliloquy we may +smile, but in judicial respect for the father of our drama he yields to +none of his contemporaries. The selections that he includes in his +'Beauties of English Poetry' would argue a conventional taste; but in +his 'Essay on Poetry Distinguished from the Other Arts,' he not only +defines poetry in terms that might content the Wordsworthians, he +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 6503]</a></span> +also to a certain extent anticipates Wordsworth's estimate of poetic +figures.</p> + +<p>While he makes no violent breach with the classical school, he +prophesies the critical doctrine of the nineteenth century. He calls +for the "energetic language of simple nature, which is now grown +into disrepute." "If the production does not keep nature in view, it +will be destitute of truth and probability, without which the beauties +of imitation cannot subsist." Still he by no means falls into the +quagmire of realism. For, continues he, "if on the other hand the +imitation is so close as to be mistaken for nature, the pleasure will +then cease, because the [Greek: mimêsis] or imitation, no longer appears."</p> + +<p>Even when wrong, Goldsmith is generally half-way right; and this +is especially true of the critical judgments contained in his first published +book. The impudence of 'The Enquiry' (1759) is delicious. +What this young Irishman, fluting it through Europe some five years +before, had <i>not</i> learned about the 'Condition of Polite Learning' in +its principal countries, might fill a ponderous folio. What he did +learn, eked out with harmless misstatement, flashes of inspiration, and +a clever argument to prove that criticism has always been the foe of +letters, managed to fill a respectable duodecimo, and brought him to +the notice of publishers and scholars.</p> + +<p>The essay has catholicity, independence, and wit, and it carries +itself with whimsical ease. Every sentence steps out sprightly. Of +the French Encyclopédies: "Wits and dunces contribute their share, +and Diderot as well as Desmaretz are candidates for oblivion. The +genius of the first supplies the gale of favor, and the latter adds the +useful ballast of stupidity." Of the Germans: "They write through +volumes, while they do not think through a page.... Were angels +to write books, they never would write folios." And again: "If +criticism could have improved the taste of a people, the Germans +would have been the most polite nation alive." That settles the Encyclopedias +and the Germans. So each nationality is sententiously +reviewed and dismissed with an epigram that even to-day sounds +not altogether unjust, rather amusing and urbane than acrimonious.</p> + +<p>But it was not until Goldsmith began the series of letters in the +Public Ledger (1760), that was afterwards published as 'The Citizen +of the World' that he took London. These letters purport to be +from a philosophic Chinaman in Europe to his friends at home. +Grave, gay, serene, ironical, they were at once an amusing image +and a genial censor of current manners and morals. They are no +less creative than critical; equally classic for the characters they +contain: the Gentleman in Black, Beau Tibbs and his wife, the +pawnbroker's widow, Tim Syllabub, and the procession of minor personages, +romantic or ridiculous, but unique,—equally classic for these +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 6504]</a></span> +characters and for the satire of the conception. These are Goldsmith's +best sketches. Though the prose is not always precise, it +seems to be clear, and is simple. The writer cares more for the +judicious than the sublime; for the quaint, the comic, and the agreeable +than the pathetic. He chuckles with sly laughter—genial, sympathetic; +he looses his arrow phosphorescent with wit, but not barbed, +dipped in something subacid,—straight for the heart. Not Irving +alone, but Thackeray, stands in line of descent from the Goldsmith +of the 'Citizen.'</p> + +<p>'The Traveller,' polished <i>ad unguem</i>, appeared in 1764, and placed +Goldsmith in the first rank of poets then living; but of that later. +There is good reason for believing that his masterpiece in prose, +'The Vicar of Wakefield,' had been written as early as 1762, although +it was not published until 1766. It made Goldsmith's mark as a storyteller. +One can readily imagine how, after the grim humor of Smollett, +the broad and <i>risqué</i> realism of Fielding, the loitering of Sterne, +and the moralizing of Richardson, the public would seize with a +sense of relief upon this unpretentious chronicle of a country clergyman's +life: his peaceful home, its ruin, its restoration. Not because +the narrative was quieter and simpler, shorter and more direct than +other narratives, but because to its humor, realism, grace, and depth +it added the charity of First Corinthians Thirteenth. England soon +discovered that the borders of the humanities had been extended; +that the Vicar and his "durable" wife, Moses, Olivia with the prenatal +tendency to romance, Sophia, the graceless Jenkinson,—the +habit and temper of the whole,—were a new province. The prose +idyl, with all its beauty and charity, does not entitle Goldsmith to +rank with the great novelists; but of its kind, in spite of faults of +inaccuracy, improbability, and impossibility, it is first and best. Goethe +read and re-read it with moral and æsthetic benefit; and the spirit +of Goldsmith is not far to seek in 'Hermann and Dorothea.' 'The +Vicar' is perhaps the most popular of English classics in foreign +lands.</p> + +<p>In poetry, if Goldsmith did not write much, it was for lack of +opportunity. What he did write is good, nearly all of it. The philosophy +of 'The Traveller' (1764) and the political economy of 'The +Deserted Village' (1770) may be dubious, but the poetry is true. +There is in both a heartiness which discards the formalized emotion, +prefers the touch of nature and the homely adjective. The characteristic +is almost feminine in the description of Auburn: "<i>Dear</i> +lovely bowers"; it is inevitable, artless, in 'The Traveller': "His +first, best country ever is at home." But on the other hand, the +<i>curiosa felicitas</i> marks every line, the nice selection of just the word +or phrase richest in association, redolent of tradition, harmonious, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 6505]</a></span> +classically proper, but still natural, true, and apt. "My heart untravell'd +fondly turns to thee"—not a word but is hearty; and for +all that, the line is stamped with the academic authority of centuries: +"Coelum, non animum mutant, qui trans mare currunt." Both poems +are characterized by the infrequency of epithet and figure,—the infrequency +that marks sincerity and that heightens pleasure,—and by a +cunning in the use of proper names, resonant, remote, suggestive: +"On Idra's cliffs or Arno's shelvy side,"—the cunning of a musical +poem. Both poems vibrate with personality, recall the experience +of the writer. It would be hard to choose between them; but 'The +Deserted Village' strikes the homelier chord, comes nearer, with its +natural pathos, its sidelong smile, and its perennial novelty, to the +heart of him who knows.</p> + +<p>Goldsmith is less eloquent but more natural than Dryden, less +precise but more simple than Pope. In poetic sensibility he has the +advantage of both. Were the volume of his verse not so slight, were +his conceptions more sublime, and their embodiment more epic or +dramatic, he might rank with the greatest of his century. As it is, +in imaginative insight he has no superior in the eighteenth century; +in observation, pathos, representative power, no equal: Dryden, Pope, +Gray, Thomson, Young,—none but Collins approaches him. The +reflective or descriptive poem can of course not compete with the +drama, epic, or even lyric of corresponding merit in its respective +kind. But Goldsmith's poems are the best of their kind, better than +all but the best in other kinds. His conception of life is more generous +and direct, hence truer and gentler, than that of the Augustan +age. Raising no revolt against classical principles, he rejects the +artifices of decadent classicism, returns to nature, and expresses <i>it</i> +simply. He is consequently in this respect the harbinger of Cowper, +Crabbe, Bloomfield, Clare, Wordsworth, and Coleridge. In technique +also he breaks away from Pope. His larger movement, his easier +modulation, his richer tone, his rarer epithet and epigram, his metaphor +"glowing from the heart," mark the defection from the poetry +of cold conceit.</p> + +<p>For lack of space we can only refer to the romantic quality of his +ballad 'Edwin and Angelina' (1765), the spontaneous humor of 'The +Haunch of Venison,' and the exquisite satire of 'Retaliation' (1774).</p> + +<p>To appreciate the historical position of Goldsmith's comedies, one +must regard them as a reaction against the school that had held the +stage since the beginning of the century—a "genteel" and "sentimental" +school, fearing to expose vice or ridicule absurdity. But +Goldsmith felt that absurdity was the comic poet's game. Reverting +therefore to Farquhar and the Comedy of Manners, he revived that +species, at the same time infusing a strain of the "humors" of the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 6506]</a></span> +tribe of Ben. Hence the approbation that welcomed his first comedy, +and the applause that greeted the second. For 'The Good-natured +Man' (1768) and 'She Stoops to Conquer' (1773) did by example what +Hugh Kelly's 'Piety in Pattens' aimed to do by ridicule,—ousted +the hybrid comedy (tradesman's tragedy, Voltaire called it) of which +'The Conscious Lovers' had been the most tolerable specimen, and +'The School for Lovers' the most decorous and dull.</p> + +<p>But "Goldy" had not only the gift of weighing the times, he had +the gift of the popular dramatist. His <i>dramatis personæ</i> are on the +one hand nearly all legitimate descendants of the national comedy, +though none is a copy from dramatic predecessors; on the other +hand, they are in every instance "imitations" of real life, more than +once of some aspect of his own life; but none is so close an imitation +as to detract from the pleasure which fiction should afford. The former +quality makes his characters look familiar; the latter, true. So +he accomplishes the feat most difficult for the dramatist: while idealizing +the individual in order to realize the type, he does not for a +moment lose the sympathy of his audience.</p> + +<p>Even in his earlier comedy these two characteristics are manifest. +In the world of drama, young Honeywood is the legitimate descendant +of Massinger's Wellborn on the one side, and of Congreve's Valentine +Legend on the other, with a more distant collateral resemblance +to Ben Jonson's Younger Knowell. But in the field of experience +this "Good-natured Man" is that aspect of "Goldy" himself which, +when he was poorest, made him not so poor but that Irishmen poorer +still could live on him; that aspect of the glorious "idiot in affairs" +which could make to the Earl of Northumberland, willing to be kind, +no other suggestion of his wants than that he had a <i>brother</i> in Ireland, +"poor, a clergyman, and much in need of help." Similarly might +those rare creations Croaker and Jack Lofty be traced to their predecessors +in the field of drama, even though remote. That they had +their analogies in the life of Goldsmith, and have them in the lives +of others, it is unnecessary to prove. But graphic as these characters +are, they cannot make of 'The Good-natured Man' more than a passable +second to 'She Stoops to Conquer.' For the premises of the +plot are absurd, if not impossible; the complication is not much more +natural than that of a Punch-and-Judy show, and the denouement but +one shade less improbable than that of 'The Vicar of Wakefield.' +The value of the play is principally historical, not æsthetic.</p> + +<p>Congreve's 'Love for Love,' Vanbrugh's 'Relapse, Farquhar's +'Beaux' Stratagem,' Goldsmith's 'She Stoops to Conquer,' and Sheridan's +'School for Scandal,' are the best comedies written since Jonson, +Fletcher, and Massinger held the stage. In plot and diction 'She +Stoops to Conquer' is equaled by Congreve; in character-drawing by +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 6507]</a></span> +Vanbrugh; in dramatic ease by Farquhar, in observation and wit by +Sheridan: but by none is it equaled in humor, and in naturalness of +dialogue it is <i>facile princeps</i>. Here again the characterization presents +the twofold charm of universality and reality. Young Marlow is the +traditional lover of the type of Young Bellair, Mirabell, and Aimwell, +suggesting each in turn but different from all; he is also, in his combination +of embarrassment and impudence, not altogether unlike the +lad Oliver who, years ago, on a journey back to school, had mistaken +Squire Featherstone's house in Ardagh for an inn.</p> + +<p>A similar adjustment of dramatic type and historic individual contributes +to the durability of Tony Lumpkin. In his <i>dramatis persona</i> +he is a practical joker of the family of Diccon and Truewit, and first +cousin on the Blenkinsop side to that horse-flesh Sir Harry Beagle. +But Anthony is more than the practical joker or the squire booby: +he is a near relative of Captain O'Blunder and that whole countryside +of generous, touch-and-go Irishmen; while in reality, <i>in propria +persona</i>, he is that aspect of Noll Goldsmith that "lived the +buckeen" in Ballymahon. Of the other characters of the play, Hardcastle, +Mrs. Hardcastle, and Kate have a like prerogative of immortality. +They are royally descended and personally unique.</p> + +<p>The comedy has been absurdly called farcical. There is much +less of the farcical than in many a so-called "legitimate" comedy. +None of the circumstances are purely fortuitous; none unnecessary. +Humor and caprice tend steadily to complicate the action, and by natural +interaction prepare the way for the denouement. The misunderstandings +are the more piquant because of their manifest irony and +their ephemeral character. Indeed, if any fault is to be found with +the play, it is that Goldsmith did not let it resolve itself without the +assistance of Sir Charles Marlow.</p> + +<p>One peculiarity not yet mentioned is illustrative of Goldsmith's +method. A system of mutual borrowing characterizes his works. The +same thought, in the same or nearly the same language, occurs in +half a dozen. 'The Enquiry' lends a phrase to 'The Citizen,' who +passes it on to the 'Vicar,' who, thinking it too good to keep, hands +it over to the 'Good-natured Man,' whence it is borrowed by 'She +Stoops to Conquer,' and turned to look like new,—like a large family +of sisters with a small wardrobe in common. This habit does not +indicate poverty of invention in Goldsmith, but associative imagination +and artistic conservatism.</p> + +<p>Goldsmith was the only Irish story-writer and poet of his century. +Four Irishmen adorned the prose of the period: Goldsmith is as eminent +in the natural style as Swift in the satiric, or Steele in the polished, +or Burke in the grand. In comedy the Irish led; but Steele, +Macklin, Murphy, Kelly, do not compare with Farquhar, Sheridan, and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 6508]</a></span> +Goldsmith. The worst work of these is good, and their best is the +best of the century.</p> + +<p>Turning to Goldsmith the man, what the "draggle-tail Muses" +paid him we find him spending on dress and rooms and jovial magnificence, +on relatives or countrymen or the unknown poor, with such +freedom that he is never relieved of the necessity of drudgery. Still, +sensitive, good-natured, improvident, Irish,—and a genius,—Goldsmith +lived as happy a life as his disposition would allow. He had +the companionship of congenial friends, the love of men like Johnson +and Reynolds, the final assurance that his art was appreciated by the +public. To be sure, he was never out of debt, but that was his own +fault; he was never out of credit either. "Was there ever poet so +trusted?" exclaimed Johnson, after this poet had got beyond reach +of his creditors. His difficulties however affected him as they affect +most Irishmen,—only by cataclysms. He was serene or wretched, but +generally the former: he packed <i>noctes cœnæque deûm</i> by the dozen +into his life. "There is no man," said Reynolds, "whose company is +more liked." But maybe that was because his naïveté, his brogue, +his absent-mindedness, and his blunders (real or apparent) made him +a ready butt for ridicule, not at the hands of Reynolds or Johnson, +but of Beauclerk and the rest. For though his humor was sly, and +his wit inimitable, Goldsmith's conversation was queer. It seemed to +go by contraries. If permitted, he would ramble along in his hesitating, +inconsequential fashion, on any subject under heaven—"too +eager," thought Johnson, "to get on without knowing how he should +get off." But if ignored, he would sit silent and apart,—sulking, +thought Boswell. In fact, both the Dictator and laird of Auchinleck +were of a mind that he tried too much to shine in conversation, for +which he had no temper. But "Goldy's" <i>bons-mots</i>—such as the +"Forsitan et nostrum nomen miscebitur <i>istis</i>" to Johnson, as they +passed under the heads on Temple Bar,—make it evident that Garrick, +with his</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Here lies Poet Goldsmith, for shortness called Noll,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who wrote like an angel, but talked like poor Poll,"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>and most of the members of the Literary Club, did not understand +their Irishman. A timidity born of rough experience may have occasionally +oppressed, a sensitiveness to ridicule or indifference may +have confused him, a desire for approbation may frequently have led +him to speak when silence had been golden; but that his conversation +was "foolish" is the judgment of Philistines who make conversation +an industry, not an amusement or an art.</p> + +<p>Boswell himself recounts more witty sayings than incomprehensible. +And the "incomprehensible" are so only to Boswells and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 6509]</a></span> +Hawkinses, who can hardly be expected to appreciate a humor, the +vein of which is a mockery of their own solemn stupidity. Probably +Goldsmith did say unconsidered things; he liked to think aloud in +company, to "rattle on" for diversion. Keenly alive to the riches of +language, he was the more likely to feel the embarrassment of impromptu +selection; and while he was too much of a genius to keep +count of every pearl, he was too considerate of his fellows to cast +pearls only. But most of his fellows (Reynolds excepted) appreciated +neither his drollery nor his unselfishness,—had not been educated up +to the type of Irishman that with an artistic love of fun, is ever +ready to promote the gayety of nations by sacrificing itself in the +interest of laughter. For none but an artist can, without cracking a +smile, offer up his wit on the altar of his humor.</p> + +<p>Prior describes Goldsmith as something under the middle size, +sturdy, active, apparently capable of endurance; pale, forehead and +upper lip rather projecting, face round, pitted with small-pox, and +marked with strong lines of thinking. But Reynolds's painting idealizes +and therefore best expresses the man, his twofold nature: on the +one hand, self-depreciatory, generous, and improvident; on the other, +aspiring, hungry for approval, laborious. Just such a man as would +gild poverty with a smile, decline patronage and force his last sixpence +on a street-singer, pile Pelion on Ossa for his publishers and +turn out cameos for art.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 462px;"> +<img src="images/sign283.png" width="462" height="120" alt="Charles Mills Gayley" title="Charles Mills Gayley" /> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="THE_VICARS_FAMILY_BECOME_AMBITIOUS" id="THE_VICARS_FAMILY_BECOME_AMBITIOUS"></a>THE VICAR'S FAMILY BECOME AMBITIOUS</h3> + +<h4>From 'The Vicar of Wakefield'</h4> + +<p>I now began to find that all my long and painful lectures upon +temperance, simplicity, and contentment were entirely disregarded. +The distinctions lately paid us by our betters awakened +that pride which I had laid asleep, but not removed. Our +windows again, as formerly, were filled with washes for the neck +and face. The sun was dreaded as an enemy to the skin without +doors, and the fire as a spoiler of the complexion within. +My wife observed that rising too early would hurt her daughters' +eyes, that working after dinner would redden their noses, and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 6510]</a></span> +she convinced me that the hands never looked so white as when +they did nothing. Instead therefore of finishing George's shirts, +we now had them new-modeling their old gauzes, or flourishing +upon catgut. The poor Miss Flamboroughs, their former gay +companions, were cast off as mean acquaintance, and the whole +conversation ran upon high life and high-lived company, with +pictures, taste, Shakespeare, and the musical glasses.</p> + +<p>But we could have borne all this, had not a fortune-telling +gypsy come to raise us into perfect sublimity. The tawny sibyl +no sooner appeared than my girls came running to me for a +shilling apiece, to cross her hand with silver. To say the truth, +I was tired of being always wise, and could not help gratifying +their request, because I loved to see them happy. I gave each +of them a shilling, though for the honor of the family it must be +observed that they never went without money themselves, as my +wife always generously let them have a guinea each to keep in +their pockets, but with strict injunctions never to change it. +After they had been closeted up with the fortune-teller for some +time, I knew by their looks, upon their returning, that they had +been promised something great. "Well, my girls, how have you +sped? Tell me, Livy, has the fortune-teller given thee a penny-worth?" +"I protest, papa," says the girl, "I believe she deals +with somebody that is not right, for she positively declared that +I am to be married to a squire in less than a twelvemonth!" +"Well now, Sophy, my child," said I, "and what sort of a husband +are you to have?" "Sir," replied she, "I am to have a +lord soon after my sister has married the squire." "How," cried +I, "is that all you are to have for your two shillings? Only +a lord and a squire for two shillings! You fools, I could have +promised you a prince and a nabob for half the money!"</p> + +<p>This curiosity of theirs, however, was attended with very serious +effects: we now began to think ourselves designed by the +stars to something exalted, and already anticipated our future +grandeur.</p> + +<hr style='width: 15%;' /> + +<p>It has been a thousand times observed, and I must observe it +once more, that the hours we pass with happy prospects in view +are more pleasing than those crowned with fruition. In the first +case we cook the dish to our own appetite; in the latter, nature +cooks it for us. It is impossible to repeat the train of agreeable +reveries we called up for our entertainment. We looked upon our +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 6511]</a></span> +fortunes as once more rising; and as the whole parish asserted +that the Squire was in love with my daughter, she was actually +so with him, for they persuaded her into the passion. In this +agreeable interval my wife had the most lucky dreams in the +world, which she took care to tell us every morning with great +solemnity and exactness. It was one night a coffin and cross-bones, +the sign of an approaching wedding; at another time she +imagined her daughter's pockets filled with farthings, a certain +sign of their being shortly stuffed with gold. The girls themselves +had their omens. They felt strange kisses on their lips; +they saw rings in the candle; purses bounced from the fire, and +true-love knots lurked in the bottom of every teacup.</p> + +<p>Towards the end of the week we received a card from the +town ladies, in which, with their compliments, they hoped to +see all our family at church the Sunday following. All Saturday +morning I could perceive, in consequence of this, my wife and +daughters in close conference together, and now and then glancing +at me with looks that betrayed a latent plot. To be sincere, +I had strong suspicions that some absurd proposal was preparing +for appearing with splendor the next day. In the evening they +began their operations in a very regular manner, and my wife +undertook to conduct the siege. After tea, when I seemed in +spirits, she began thus: "I fancy, Charles my dear, we shall +have a great deal of good company at our church to-morrow." +"Perhaps we may, my dear," returned I; "though you need be +under no uneasiness about that; you shall have a sermon whether +there be or not." "That is what I expect," returned she; "but +I think, my dear, we ought to appear there as decently as possible, +for who knows what may happen?" "Your precautions," +replied I, "are highly commendable. A decent behavior and +appearance in church is what charms me. We should be devout +and humble, cheerful and serene." "Yes," cried she, "I know +that; but I mean we should go there in as proper a manner as +possible; not altogether like the scrubs about us." "You are +quite right, my dear," returned I; "and I was going to make the +very same proposal. The proper manner of going is to go there +as early as possible, to have time for meditation before the service +begins." "Phoo, Charles!" interrupted she; "all that is very +true, but not what I would be at. I mean we should go there +genteelly. You know the church is two miles off, and I protest +I don't like to see my daughters trudging up to their pew all +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 6512]</a></span> +blowzed and red with walking, and looking for all the world as +if they had been winners at a smock-race. Now, my dear, my +proposal is this: there are our two plow-horses, the colt that has +been in our family these nine years, and his companion Blackberry +that has scarcely done an earthly thing this month past. +They are both grown fat and lazy. Why should not they do +something as well as we? And let me tell you, when Moses has +trimmed them a little they will cut a very tolerable figure."</p> + +<p>To this proposal I objected that walking would be twenty +times more genteel than such a paltry conveyance, as Blackberry +was wall-eyed and the colt wanted a tail; that they had never +been broke to the rein, but had a hundred vicious tricks; and +that we had but one saddle and pillion in the whole house. All +these objections however were overruled; so that I was obliged +to comply. The next morning I perceived them not a little busy +in collecting such materials as might be necessary for the expedition, +but as I found it would be a business of time, I walked +on to the church before, and they promised speedily to follow. I +waited near an hour in the reading-desk for their arrival, but not +finding them come as I expected, I was obliged to begin, and +went through the service, not without some uneasiness at finding +them absent. This was increased when all was finished, and no +appearance of the family. I therefore walked back by the horse-way, +which was five miles round, though the foot-way was but +two, and when I got about half-way home, perceived the procession +marching slowly forward towards the church; my son, my +wife, and the two little ones exalted upon one horse, and my two +daughters upon the other. I demanded the cause of their delay; +but I soon found by their looks they had met with a thousand +misfortunes on the road. The horses had at first refused to move +from the door, till Mr. Burchell was kind enough to beat them +forward for about two hundred yards with his cudgel. Next, the +straps of my wife's pillion broke down, and they were obliged to +stop to repair them before they could proceed. After that, one +of the horses took it into his head to stand still, and neither +blows nor entreaties could prevail with him to proceed. They +were just recovering from this dismal situation when I found +them; but perceiving everything safe, I own their present mortification +did not much displease me, as it would give me many +opportunities of future triumph, and teach my daughters more +humility.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 6513]</a></span></p> + +<p>Michaelmas Eve happening on the next day, we were invited +to burn nuts and play tricks at neighbor Flamborough's. Our +late mortifications had humbled us a little, or it is probable we +might have rejected such an invitation with contempt; however, +we suffered ourselves to be happy. Our honest neighbor's goose +and dumplings were fine, and the lamb's wool, even in the opinion +of my wife, who was a connoisseur, was excellent. It is true +his manner of telling stories was not quite so well; they were +very long and very dull, and all about himself, and we had +laughed at them ten times before; however, we were kind enough +to laugh at them once more.</p> + +<p>Mr. Burchell, who was of the party, was always fond of seeing +some innocent amusement going forward, and set the boys and +girls to blindman's buff. My wife too was persuaded to join in +the diversion, and it gave me pleasure to think she was not yet +too old. In the mean time my neighbor and I looked on, laughed +at every feat, and praised our own dexterity when we were +young. Hot cockles succeeded next, questions and commands +followed that, and last of all they sat down to hunt the slipper. +As every person may not be acquainted with this primeval pastime, +it may be necessary to observe that the company at this +play planted themselves in a ring upon the ground, all except +one, who stands in the middle, whose business it is to catch a +shoe which the company shove about under their hams from one +to another, something like a weaver's shuttle. As it is impossible +in this case for the lady who is up to face all the company +at once, the great beauty of the play lies in hitting her a thump +with the heel of the shoe on that side least capable of making a +defense. It was in this manner that my eldest daughter was +hemmed in and thumped about, all blowzed in spirits, and bawling +for fair play with a voice that might deafen a ballad-singer, +when, confusion on confusion! who should enter the room but +our two great acquaintances from town, Lady Blarney and Miss +Carolina Wilhelmina Amelia Skeggs! Description would but beggar, +therefore it is unnecessary to describe this new mortification. +Death! To be seen by ladies of such high breeding in such vulgar +attitudes! Nothing better could ensue from such a vulgar +play of Mr. Flamborough's proposing. We seemed stuck to the +ground for some time, as if actually petrified with amazement.</p> + +<p>The two ladies had been at our house to see us, and finding +us from home, came after us hither, as they were uneasy to +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 6514]</a></span> +know what accident could have kept us from church the day +before. Olivia undertook to be our prolocutor, and delivered the +whole in the summary way, only saying, "We were thrown from +our horses." At which account the ladies were greatly concerned; +but being told the family received no hurt, they were extremely +glad; but being informed that we were almost killed by the +fright, they were vastly sorry; but hearing that we had a very +good night, they were extremely glad again. Nothing could +exceed their complaisance to my daughters; their professions the +last evening were warm, but now they were ardent. They protested +a desire of having a more lasting acquaintance; Lady +Blarney was particularly attached to Olivia; Miss Carolina Wilhelmina +Amelia Skeggs (I love to give the whole name) took a +greater fancy to her sister. They supported the conversation +between themselves, while my daughters sat silent, admiring their +exalted breeding. But as every reader, however beggarly himself, +is fond of high-lived dialogues, with anecdotes of lords, +ladies, and Knights of the Garter, I must beg leave to give him +the concluding part of the present conversation.</p> + +<p>"All that I know of the matter," cried Miss Skeggs, "is this: +that it may be true, or it may not be true; but this I can assure +your ladyship, that the whole route was in amaze; his lordship +turned all manner of colors, my lady fell into a swoon, but Sir +Tomkyn, drawing his sword, swore he was hers to the last drop +of his blood."</p> + +<p>"Well," replied our peeress, "this I can say: that the duchess +never told me a syllable of the matter; and I believe her Grace +would keep nothing a secret from me. This you may depend +upon as fact: that the next morning my lord duke cried out +three times to his <i>valet-de-chambre</i>, 'Jernigan, Jernigan, Jernigan, +bring me my garters!'"</p> + +<p>But previously I should have mentioned the very impolite behavior +of Mr. Burchell, who during this discourse sat with his +face turned to the fire, and at the conclusion of every sentence +would cry out "<i>Fudge!</i>"—an expression which displeased us all, +and in some measure damped the rising spirit of the conversation.</p> + +<p>"Besides, my dear Skeggs," continued our peeress, "there is +nothing of this in the copy of verses that Doctor Burdock made +upon the occasion." <i>Fudge!</i></p> + +<p>"I am surprised at that," cried Miss Skeggs; "for he seldom +leaves anything out, as he writes only for his own amusement. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 6515]</a></span> +But can your Ladyship favor me with a sight of them?" +<i>Fudge!</i></p> + +<p>"My dear creature," replied our peeress, "do you think I +carry such things about me? Though they are very fine, to be +sure, and I think myself something of a judge; at least I know +what pleases myself. Indeed, I was ever an admirer of all Doctor +Burdock's little pieces; for except what he does, and our dear +countess at Hanover Square, there's nothing comes out but the +most lowest stuff in nature; not a bit of high life among them." +<i>Fudge!</i></p> + +<p>"Your Ladyship should except," says t'other, "your own things +in the Lady's Magazine. I hope you'll say there's nothing low-lived +there? But I suppose we are to have no more from that +quarter?" <i>Fudge!</i></p> + +<p>"Why, my dear," says the lady, "you know my reader and +companion has left me to be married to Captain Roach, and as +my poor eyes won't suffer me to write myself, I have been for +some time looking out for another. A proper person is no easy +matter to find, and to be sure, thirty pounds a year is a small +stipend for a well-bred girl of character, that can read, write, +and behave in company; as for the chits about town, there is no +bearing them about one." <i>Fudge!</i></p> + +<p>"That I know," cried Miss Skeggs, "by experience. For +of the three companions I had this last half-year, one of them +refused to do plain work an hour in the day, another thought +twenty-five guineas a year too small a salary, and I was obliged +to send away the third because I suspected an intrigue with the +chaplain. Virtue, my dear Lady Blarney, virtue is worth any +price; but where is that to be found?" <i>Fudge!</i></p> + +<p>My wife had been for a long time all attention to this discourse, +but was particularly struck with the latter part of it. +Thirty pounds and twenty-five guineas a year made fifty-six +pounds five shillings, English money, all which was in a manner +going a-begging, and might easily be secured in the family. She +for a moment studied my looks for approbation; and to own a +truth, I was of opinion that two such places would fit our two +daughters exactly. Besides, if the Squire had any real affection +for my eldest daughter, this would be the way to make her every +way qualified for her fortune. My wife therefore was resolved +that we should not be deprived of such advantages for want of +assurance, and undertook to harangue for the family. "I hope," +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 6516]</a></span> +cried she, "your ladyships will pardon my present presumption. +It is true, we have no right to pretend to such favors; but yet +it is natural for me to wish putting my children forward in the +world. And I will be bold to say my two girls have had a +pretty good education and capacity; at least, the country can't +show better. They can read, write, and cast accounts; they +understand their needle, broad-stitch, cross-and-change, and all +manner of plain work; they can pink, point, and frill, and know +something of music; they can do up small-clothes, work upon +catgut; my eldest can cut paper, and my youngest has a very +pretty manner of telling fortunes upon the cards." <i>Fudge!</i></p> + +<p>When she had delivered this pretty piece of eloquence, the +two ladies looked at each other a few moments in silence, with +an air of doubt and importance. At last Miss Carolina Wilhelmina +Amelia Skeggs condescended to observe that the young +ladies, from the opinion she could form of them from so slight +an acquaintance, seemed very fit for such employments. "But a +thing of this kind, madam," cried she, addressing my spouse, +"requires a thorough examination into characters, and a more +perfect knowledge of each other. Not, madam," continued she, +"that I in the least suspect the young ladies' virtue, prudence, +and discretion; but there is a form in these things, madam, there +is a form."</p> + +<p>My wife approved her suspicions very much, observing that +she was very apt to be suspicious herself; but referred her to all +the neighbors for a character; but this our peeress declined as +unnecessary, alleging that her cousin Thornhill's recommendation +would be sufficient, and upon this we rested our petition.</p> + +<hr style='width: 15%;' /> + +<p>When we returned home, the night was dedicated to schemes +of future conquest. Deborah exerted much sagacity in conjecturing +which of the two girls was likely to have the best place, and +most opportunities of seeing good company. The only obstacle to +our preferment was in obtaining the Squire's recommendation; +but he had already shown us too many instances of his friendship +to doubt of it now. Even in bed my wife kept up the usual +theme: "Well, faith, my dear Charles, between ourselves, I +think we have made an excellent day's work of it." "Pretty +well," cried I, not knowing what to say. "What, only pretty +well!" returned she; "I think it is very well. Suppose the girls +should come to make acquaintances of taste in town! This I am +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 6517]</a></span> +assured of, that London is the only place in the world for all +manner of husbands. Besides, my dear, stranger things happen +every day; and as ladies of quality are so taken with my daughters, +what will not men of quality be! <i>Entre nous</i>, I protest I +like my Lady Blarney vastly; so very obliging. However, Miss Carolina +Wilhelmina Amelia Skeggs has my warm heart. But +yet when they came to talk of places in town, you saw at once +how I nailed them. Tell me, my dear, don't you think I did for +my children there?" "Ay," returned I, not knowing well what +to think of the matter; "Heaven grant that they may be both +the better for it this day three months!" This was one of those +observations I usually made to impress my wife with an opinion +of my sagacity; for if the girls succeeded, then it was a pious +wish fulfilled; but if anything unfortunate ensued, then it might +be looked upon as a prophecy.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="NEW_MISFORTUNES_BUT_OFFENSES_ARE_EASILY_PARDONED" id="NEW_MISFORTUNES_BUT_OFFENSES_ARE_EASILY_PARDONED"></a>NEW MISFORTUNES: BUT OFFENSES ARE EASILY PARDONED WHERE THERE IS LOVE AT BOTTOM</h3> + +<h4>From 'The Vicar of Wakefield'</h4> + +<p>The next morning I took my daughter behind me, and set out +on my return home. As we traveled along, I strove by +every persuasion to calm her sorrows and fears, and to +arm her with resolution to bear the presence of her offended +mother. I took every opportunity, from the prospect of a fine +country through which we passed, to observe how much kinder +Heaven was to us than we were to each other, and that the +misfortunes of nature's making were very few. I assured her +that she should never perceive any change in my affections, +and that during my life, which yet might be long, she might +depend upon a guardian and an instructor. I armed her against +the censures of the world; showed her that books were sweet, +unreproaching companions to the miserable, and that if they +could not bring us to enjoy life, they would at least teach us to +endure it.</p> + +<p>The hired horse that we rode was to be put up that night at +an inn by the way, within about five miles from my house; and +as I was willing to prepare my family for my daughter's reception, +I determined to leave her that night at the inn, and to +return for her accompanied by my daughter Sophia, early the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 6518]</a></span> +next morning. It was night before we reached our appointed +stage; however, after seeing her provided with a decent apartment, +and having ordered the hostess to prepare proper refreshments, +I kissed her, and proceeded towards home. And +now my heart caught new sensations of pleasure, the nearer I +approached that peaceful mansion. As a bird that had been +frighted from its nest, my affections outwent my haste, and +hovered round my little fireside with all the rapture of expectation. +I called up the many fond things I had to say, and anticipated +the welcome I was to receive. I already felt my wife's +tender embrace, and smiled at the joy of my little ones. As I +walked but slowly, the night waned apace. The laborers of the +day were all retired to rest; the lights were out in every cottage; +no sounds were heard but of the shrilling cock, and the deep-mouthed +watch-dog at the hollow distance. I approached my +little abode of pleasure, and before I was within a furlong of the +place our honest mastiff came running to welcome me.</p> + +<p>It was now near midnight that I came to knock at my door; +all was still and silent; my heart dilated with unutterable happiness; +when to my amazement I saw the house bursting out in a +blaze of fire, and every aperture red with conflagration! I gave +a loud convulsive outcry, and fell upon the pavement insensible. +This alarmed my son, who had till this been asleep, and he perceiving +the flames instantly waked my wife and daughter, and all +running out naked and wild with apprehension, recalled me to +life with their anguish. But it was only to objects of new terror; +for the flames had by this time caught the roof of our dwelling, +part after part continuing to fall in, while the family stood with +silent agony looking on, as if they enjoyed the blaze. I gazed +upon them and upon it by turns, and then looked round me for +my two little ones: but they were not to be seen. Oh misery! +"Where," cried I, "where are my little ones?" "They are burnt +to death in the flames," said my wife calmly, "and I will die +with them." That moment I heard the cry of the babes within, +who were just awaked by the fire; and nothing could have +stopped me. "Where, where are my children?" cried I, rushing +through the flames, and bursting the door of the chamber in +which they were confined; "where are my little ones?" "Here, +dear papa, here we are," cried they together, while the flames +were just catching the bed where they lay. I caught them +both in my arms, and snatched them through the fire as fast as +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 6519]</a></span> +possible, while just as I was got out, the roof sunk in. "Now," +cried I, holding up my children, "now let the flames burn on, +and all my possessions perish. Here they are; I have saved my +treasure. Here, my dearest, here are our treasures, and we +shall yet be happy." We kissed our little darlings a thousand +times, they clasped us round the neck and seemed to share our +transports, while their mother laughed and wept by turns.</p> + +<p>I now stood a calm spectator of the flames, and after some +time began to perceive that my arm to the shoulder was scorched +in a terrible manner. It was therefore out of my power to give +my son any assistance, either in attempting to save our goods, or +preventing the flames spreading to our corn. By this time the +neighbors were alarmed, and came running to our assistance; but +all they could do was to stand, like us, spectators of the calamity. +My goods, among which were the notes I had reserved for my +daughters' fortunes, were entirely consumed, except a box with +some papers that stood in the kitchen, and two or three things +more of little consequence which my son brought away in the +beginning. The neighbors contributed, however, what they could +to lighten our distress. They brought us clothes, and furnished +one of our out-houses with kitchen utensils; so that by daylight +we had another, though a wretched dwelling, to retire to. My +honest next neighbor and his children were not the least assiduous +in providing us with everything necessary, and offering +whatever consolation untutored benevolence could suggest.</p> + +<p>When the fears of my family had subsided, curiosity to know +the cause of my long stay began to take place; having therefore +informed them of every particular, I proceeded to prepare them +for the reception of our lost one, and though we had nothing +but wretchedness now to impart, I was willing to procure her a +welcome to what we had. This task would have been more difficult +but for our recent calamity, which had humbled my wife's +pride and blunted it by more poignant afflictions. Being unable +to go for my poor child myself, as my arm grew very painful, I +sent my son and daughter, who soon returned, supporting the +wretched delinquent, who had not the courage to look up at her +mother, whom no instructions of mine could persuade to a perfect +reconciliation; for women have a much stronger sense of +female error than men. "Ah, madam," cried her mother, "this +is but a poor place you have come to after so much finery. +My daughter Sophy and I can afford but little entertainment to +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 6520]</a></span> +persons who have kept company only with people of distinction. +Yes, Miss Livy, your poor father and I have suffered very much +of late; but I hope Heaven will forgive you." During this +reception the unhappy victim stood pale and trembling, unable +to weep or to reply; but I could not continue a silent spectator +of her distress; wherefore, assuming a degree of severity in my +voice and manner which was ever followed with instant submission:—-"I +entreat, woman, that my words may be now marked +once for all: I have here brought you back a poor deluded wanderer; +her return to duty demands the revival of our tenderness. +The real hardships of life are now coming fast upon us; let us +not therefore increase them by dissension among each other. If +we live harmoniously together, we may yet be contented, as there +are enough of us to shut out the censuring world and keep each +other in countenance. The kindness of Heaven is promised to +the penitent, and let ours be directed by the example. Heaven, +we are assured, is much more pleased to view a repentant sinner +than ninety-nine persons who have supported a course of undeviating +rectitude. And this is right; for that single effort by +which we stop short in the down-hill path to perdition, is itself a +greater exertion of virtue than a hundred acts of justice."</p> + +<hr style='width: 15%;' /> + +<p>Some assiduity was now required to make our present abode +as convenient as possible, and we were soon again qualified to +enjoy our former serenity. Being disabled myself from assisting +my son in our usual occupations, I read to my family from the +few books that were saved, and particularly from such as by +amusing the imagination contributed to ease the heart. Our +good neighbors, too, came every day with the kindest condolence, +and fixed a time in which they were all to assist at repairing +my former dwelling. Honest Farmer Williams was not last +among these visitors, but heartily offered his friendship. He +would even have renewed his addresses to my daughter; but she +rejected them in such a manner as totally repressed his future +solicitations. Her grief seemed formed for continuing, and she +was the only person of our little society that a week did not +restore to cheerfulness. She had now lost that unblushing innocence +which once taught her to respect herself, and to seek pleasure +by pleasing. Anxiety now had taken strong possession of +her mind, her beauty began to be impaired with her constitution, +and neglect still more contributed to diminish it. Every tender +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 6521]</a></span> +epithet bestowed on her sister brought a pang to her heart and +a tear to her eye; and as one vice, though cured, ever plants +others where it has been, so her former guilt, though driven out +by repentance, left jealousy and envy behind. I strove in a +thousand ways to lessen her care, and even forgot my own pain +in a concern for hers, collecting such amusing passages of history +as a strong memory and some reading could suggest. "Our +happiness, my dear," I would say, "is in the power of One who +can bring it about a thousand unforeseen ways that mock our +foresight."</p> + +<p>In this manner I would attempt to amuse my daughter; but +she listened with divided attention, for her own misfortunes +engrossed all the pity she once had for those of another, and +nothing gave her ease. In company she dreaded contempt, and +in solitude she only found anxiety. Such was the color of her +wretchedness, when we received certain information that Mr. +Thornhill was going to be married to Miss Wilmot, for whom I +always suspected he had a real passion, though he took every +opportunity before me to express his contempt both of her person +and fortune. This news only served to increase poor Olivia's +affliction; such a flagrant breach of fidelity was more than her +courage could support. I was resolved however to get more +certain information, and to defeat if possible the completion of +his designs, by sending my son to old Mr. Wilmot's with instructions +to know the truth of the report, and to deliver Miss Wilmot +a letter intimating Mr. Thornhill's conduct in my family. +My son went in pursuance of my directions, and in three days +returned, assuring us of the truth of the account; but that he +had found it impossible to deliver the letter, which he was therefore +obliged to leave, as Mr. Thornhill and Miss Wilmot were +visiting round the country. They were to be married, he said, +in a few days, having appeared together at church the Sunday +before he was there, in great splendor; the bride attended by +six young ladies, and he by as many gentlemen. Their approaching +nuptials filled the whole country with rejoicing, and they +usually rode out together in the grandest equipage that had been +seen in the country for years. All the friends of both families, +he said, were there, particularly the Squire's uncle, Sir William +Thornhill, who bore so good a character. He added that nothing +but mirth and feasting were going forward; that all the country +praised the young bride's beauty and the bridegroom's fine +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 6522]</a></span> +person, and that they were immensely fond of each other; concluding +that he could not help thinking Mr. Thornhill one of +the most happy men in the world.</p> + +<p>"Why, let him if he can," returned I; "but my son, observe +this bed of straw and unsheltering roof, those moldering walls +and humid floor, my wretched body thus disabled by fire, and +my children weeping round me for bread. You have come home, +my child, to all this; yet here, even here, you see a man that +would not for a thousand worlds exchange situations. O my +children, if you could but learn to commune with your own +hearts, and know what noble company you can make them, you +would little regard the elegance and splendor of the worthless. +Almost all men have been taught to call life a passage, and +themselves the travelers. The similitude still may be improved, +when we observe that the good are joyful and serene, like travelers +that are going towards home; the wicked but by intervals +happy, like travelers that are going into exile."</p> + +<p>My compassion for my poor daughter, overpowered by this +new disaster, interrupted what I had further to observe. I bade +her mother support her, and after a short time she recovered. +She appeared from that time more calm, and I imagined had +gained a new degree of resolution; but appearances deceived me, +for her tranquillity was the languor of overwrought resentment. +A supply of provisions charitably sent us by my kind parishioners +seemed to diffuse new cheerfulness among the rest of the +family; nor was I displeased at seeing them once more sprightly +and at ease. It would have been unjust to damp their satisfactions +merely to condole with resolute melancholy, or to burden +them with a sadness they did not feel. Thus once more the tale +went round, and the song was demanded, and cheerfulness condescended +to hover round our little habitation.</p> + +<hr style='width: 15%;' /> + +<p>The next morning the sun arose with peculiar warmth for +the season; so that we agreed to breakfast together on the +honeysuckle bank; where, while we sat, my youngest daughter, +at my request, joined her voice to the concert on the trees about +us. It was in this place my poor Olivia first met her seducer, +and every object served to recall her sadness. But that melancholy +which is excited by objects of pleasure, or inspired by +sounds of harmony, soothes the heart instead of corroding it. +Her mother, too, upon this occasion felt a pleasing distress, and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 6523]</a></span> +wept, and loved her daughter as before. "Do, my pretty Olivia," +cried she, "let us have that little melancholy air your papa was +so fond of; your sister Sophy has already obliged us. Do, child; +it will please your old father." She complied in a manner so +exquisitely pathetic as moved me:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"When lovely woman stoops to folly,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And finds too late that men betray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What charm can soothe her melancholy?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">What art can wash her guilt away?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The only art her guilt to cover,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">"To hide her shame from every eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To give repentance to her lover,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And wring his bosom, is—to die."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>As she was concluding the last stanza, to which an interruption +in her voice from sorrow gave peculiar softness, the appearance +of Mr. Thornhill's equipage at a distance alarmed us all, but +particularly increased the uneasiness of my eldest daughter, who, +desirous of shunning her betrayer, returned to the house with +her sister. In a few minutes he was alighted from his chariot, +and making up to the place where I was still sitting, inquired after +my health with his usual air of familiarity. "Sir," replied I, +"your present assurance only serves to aggravate the baseness of +your character; and there was a time when I would have chastised +your insolence for presuming thus to appear before me. +But now you are safe; for age has cooled my passions, and my +calling restrains me."</p> + +<p>"I vow, my dear sir," returned he, "I am amazed at all this, +nor can I understand what it means. I hope you don't think +your daughter's late excursion with me had anything criminal +in it."</p> + +<p>"Go," cried I; "thou art a wretch, a poor pitiful wretch, and +every way a liar; but your meanness secures you from my anger. +Yet, sir, I am descended from a family that would not have +borne this! And so, thou vile thing! to gratify a momentary passion, +thou hast made one poor creature wretched for life, and +polluted a family that had nothing but honor for their portion."</p> + +<p>"If she or you," returned he, "are resolved to be miserable, +I cannot help it. But you may still be happy; and whatever +opinion you may have formed of me, you shall ever find me +ready to contribute to it. We can marry her to another in a short +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 6524]</a></span> +time, and what is more, she may keep her lover beside; for I +protest I shall ever continue to have a true regard for her."</p> + +<p>I found all my passions alarmed at this new degrading proposal; +for although the mind may often be calm under great +injuries, little villainy can at any time get within the soul and +sting it into rage. "Avoid my sight, thou reptile," cried I, "nor +continue to insult me with thy presence. Were my brave son at +home he would not suffer this; but I am old and disabled, and +every way undone."</p> + +<p>"I find," cried he, "you are bent upon obliging me to talk in +a harsher manner than I intended. But as I have shown you +what may be hoped from my friendship, it may not be improper +to represent what may be the consequences of my resentment. +My attorney, to whom your late bond has been transferred, +threatens hard; nor do I know how to prevent the course of +justice except by paying the money myself, which, as I have +been at some expenses lately previous to my intended marriage, +is not so easy to be done. And then my steward talks of driving +for the rent: it is certain he knows his duty, for I never +trouble myself with affairs of that nature. Yet still I could +wish to serve you, and even to have you and your daughter +present at my marriage, which is shortly to be solemnized with +Miss Wilmot; it is even the request of my charming Arabella +herself, whom I hope you will not refuse."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Thornhill," replied I, "hear me once for all: as to your +marriage with any but my daughter, that I never will consent to; +and though your friendship could raise me to a throne, or your +resentment sink me to the grave, yet would I despise both. +Thou hast once woefully, irreparably deceived me. I reposed my +heart upon thine honor, and have found its baseness. Never +more, therefore, expect friendship from me. Go, and possess +what fortune has given thee—beauty, riches, health, and pleasure. +Go and leave me to want, infamy, disease, and sorrow. +Yet humbled as I am, shall my heart still vindicate its dignity, +and though thou hast my forgiveness, thou shalt ever have my +contempt."</p> + +<p>"If so," returned he, "depend upon it you shall feel the +effects of this insolence; and we shall shortly see which is the +fittest object of scorn, you or me." Upon which he departed +abruptly.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 6525]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="PICTURES_FROM_THE_DESERTED_VILLAGE" id="PICTURES_FROM_THE_DESERTED_VILLAGE"></a>PICTURES FROM 'THE DESERTED VILLAGE'</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sweet Auburn! parent of the blissful hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy glades forlorn confess the tyrant's power.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here, as I take my solitary rounds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amidst thy tangling walks and ruined grounds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, many a year elapsed, return to view<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where once the cottage stood, the hawthorn grew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Remembrance wakes, with all her busy train,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swells at my breast, and turns the past to pain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In all my wanderings round this world of care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In all my griefs,—and God has given my share,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I still had hopes, my latest hours to crown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To husband out life's taper at the close,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And keep the flame from wasting by repose.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I still had hopes—for pride attends us still—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amidst the swains to show my book-learned skill;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Around my fire an evening group to draw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tell of all I felt, and all I saw;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And as a hare whom hounds and horns pursue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pants to the place from whence at first she flew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I still had hopes, my long vexations past,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here to return—and die at home at last.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, blest retirement! friend to life's decline,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Retreat from care, that never must be mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How blest is he who crowns in shades like these<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A youth of labor with an age of ease;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who quits a world where strong temptations try,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And since 'tis hard to combat, learns to fly!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For him no wretches, born to work and weep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Explore the mine, or tempt the dangerous deep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No surly porter stands in guilty state,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To spurn imploring famine from the gate:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But on he moves to meet his latter end,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Angels around befriending virtue's friend;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bends to the grave with unperceived decay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While resignation gently slopes the way;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, all his prospects brightening to the last,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">His heaven commences ere the world be past.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sweet was the sound, when oft at evening's close<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up yonder hill the village murmur rose.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 6526]</a></span><span class="i0">There, as I passed with careless steps and slow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mingling notes came softened from below:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The swain responsive as the milkmaid sung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sober herd that lowed to meet their young;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The playful children just let loose from school;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The watch-dog's voice that bayed the whispering wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These all in sweet confusion sought the shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And filled each pause the nightingale had made.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now the sounds of population fail;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No cheerful murmurs fluctuate in the gale;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No busy steps the grass-grown footway tread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But all the bloomy flush of life is fled.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All but yon widowed, solitary thing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That feebly bends beside the plashy spring;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She, wretched matron,—forced in age, for bread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To strip the brook with mantling cresses spread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To pick her wintry fagot from the thorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To seek her nightly shed, and weep till morn,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She only left of all the harmless train,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sad historian of the pensive plain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And still where many a garden flower grows wild,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The village preacher's modest mansion rose.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A man he was to all the country dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And passing rich with forty pounds a year.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Remote from towns he ran his godly race,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor e'er had changed, nor wished to change, his place:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unpracticed he to fawn, or seek for power,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By doctrines fashioned to the varying hour;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far other aims his heart had learned to prize,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More skilled to raise the wretched than to rise.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His house was known to all the vagrant train,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He chid their wanderings, but relieved their pain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The long-remembered beggar was his guest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose beard descending swept his aged breast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ruined spendthrift, now no longer proud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Claimed kindred there, and had his claims allowed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The broken soldier, kindly bade to stay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sate by his fire, and talked the night away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wept o'er his wounds, or, tales of sorrow done,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shouldered his crutch, and showed how fields were won.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 6527]</a></span><span class="i0">Pleased with his guests, the good man learned to glow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And quite forgot their vices in their woe;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Careless their merits or their faults to scan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His pity gave ere charity began.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And e'en his failings leaned to virtue's side:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But in his duty prompt at every call,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He watched and wept, he prayed and felt for all.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And as a bird each fond endearment tries<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He tried each art, reproved each dull delay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Beside the bed where parting life was laid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sorrow, guilt, and pain, by turns dismayed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The reverend champion stood. At his control,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Comfort came down, the trembling wretch to raise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And his last faltering accents whispered praise.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At church, with meek and unaffected grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His looks adorned the venerable place;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Truth from his lips prevailed with double sway,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fools who came to scoff remained to pray.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The service past, around the pious man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With steady zeal, each honest rustic ran;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even children followed, with endearing wile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And plucked his gown, to share the good man's smile.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His ready smile a parent's warmth exprest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their welfare pleased him, and their cares distrest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To them his heart, his love, his griefs, were given,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But all his serious thoughts had rest in Heaven:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eternal sunshine settles on its head.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With blossomed furze unprofitably gay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There in his noisy mansion, skilled to rule,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The village master taught his little school.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A man severe he was, and stern to view;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I knew him well, and every truant knew:<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 6528]</a></span><span class="i0">Well had the boding tremblers learned to trace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The day's disasters in his morning face;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Full well they laughed, with counterfeited glee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At all his jokes,—for many a joke had he;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Full well, the busy whisper, circling round,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Conveyed the dismal tidings when he frowned.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet he was kind; or if severe in aught,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The love he bore to learning was in fault.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The village all declared how much he knew:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas certain he could write, and cipher too;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lands he could measure, terms and tides presage,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And even the story ran that he could <i>gauge</i>.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In arguing, too, the parson owned his skill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For even though vanquished he could argue still;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While words of learnèd length and thundering sound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amazed the gazing rustics ranged around,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And still they gazed, and still the wonder grew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That one small head could carry all he knew.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But past is all his fame. The very spot<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where many a time he triumphed is forgot.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Near yonder thorn, that lifts its head on high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where once the sign-post caught the passing eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Low lies that house where nut-brown draughts inspired,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where graybeard mirth and smiling toil retired,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where village statesmen talked with looks profound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And news much older than their ale went round.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Imagination fondly stoops to trace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The parlor splendors of that festive place:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The whitewashed wall, the nicely sanded floor,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The varnished clock that clicked behind the door;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The chest contrived a double debt to pay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pictures placed for ornament and use,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The twelve good rules, the royal game of goose;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hearth, except when winter chilled the day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With aspen boughs and flowers and fennel gay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While broken teacups, wisely kept for show,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ranged o'er the chimney, glistened in a row.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Vain, transitory splendors! could not all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reprieve the tottering mansion from its fall?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Obscure it sinks, nor shall it more impart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An hour's importance to the poor man's heart.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 6529]</a></span><span class="i0">Thither no more the peasant shall repair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To sweet oblivion of his daily care;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No more the farmer's news, the barber's tale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No more the woodman's ballad shall prevail;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No more the smith his dusky brow shall clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Relax his ponderous strength, and lean to hear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The host himself no longer shall be found<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Careful to see the mantling bliss go round;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor the coy maid, half willing to be prest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall kiss the cup to pass it to the rest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yes! let the rich deride, the proud disdain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These simple blessings of the lowly train;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To me more dear, congenial to my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One native charm, than all the gloss of art.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spontaneous joys where nature has its play,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The soul adopts, and owns their first-born sway;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lightly they frolic o'er the vacant mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unenvied, unmolested, unconfined.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the long pomp, the midnight masquerade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With all the freaks of wanton wealth arrayed,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In these, ere triflers half their wish obtain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The toiling pleasure sickens into pain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And even while fashion's brightest arts decoy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heart, distrusting, asks if this be joy.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="CONTRASTED_NATIONAL_TYPES" id="CONTRASTED_NATIONAL_TYPES"></a>CONTRASTED NATIONAL TYPES</h3> + +<h4>From 'The Traveller'</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My soul, turn from them; turn we to survey<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where rougher climes a nobler race display;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the bleak Swiss their stormy mansion tread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And force a churlish soil for scanty bread.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No product here the barren hills afford,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But man and steel, the soldier and his sword;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No vernal blooms their torpid rocks array,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But winter lingering chills the lap of May;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No zephyr fondly sues the mountain's breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But meteors glare, and stormy glooms invest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet still, even here, content can spread a charm.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Redress the clime, and all its rage disarm.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though poor the peasant's hut, his feasts though small<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He sees his little lot the lot of all;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 6530]</a></span><span class="i0">Sees no contiguous palace rear its head<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To shame the meanness of his humble shed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No costly lord the sumptuous banquet deal<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To make him loathe his vegetable meal;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But calm, and bred in ignorance and toil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each wish contracting fits him to the soil.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cheerful at morn he wakes from short repose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Breasts the keen air, and carols as he goes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With patient angle trolls the finny deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or drives his venturous plowshare to the steep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or seeks the den where snow-tracks mark the way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And drags the struggling savage into day.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At night returning, every labor sped,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He sits him down, the monarch of a shed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Smiles by his cheerful fire, and round surveys<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His children's looks, that brighten at the blaze;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While his loved partner, boastful of her hoard,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Displays her cleanly platter on the board;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And haply too some pilgrim, thither led,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With many a tale repays the nightly bed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thus every good his native wilds impart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Imprints the patriot passion on his heart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And even those ills that round his mansion rise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enhance the bliss his scanty fund supplies.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dear is that shed to which his soul conforms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dear that hill which lifts him to the storms;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And as a child, when scaring sounds molest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clings close and closer to the mother's breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So the loud torrent, and the whirlwind's roar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But bind him to his native mountains more.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Such are the charms to barren states assigned;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their wants but few, their wishes all confined.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet let them only share the praises due,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If few their wants, their pleasures are but few;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For every want that stimulates the breast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Becomes a source of pleasure when redrest.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence from such lands each pleasing science flies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That first excites desire, and then supplies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unknown to them, when sensual pleasures cloy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To fill the languid pause with finer joy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unknown those powers that raise the soul to flame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Catch every nerve, and vibrate through the frame.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 6531]</a></span><span class="i0">Their level life is but a smoldering fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unquenched by want, unfanned by strong desire;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unfit for raptures, or if raptures cheer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On some high festival of once a year,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In wild excess the vulgar breast takes fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till, buried in debauch, the bliss expire.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But not their joys alone thus coarsely flow:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their morals, like their pleasures, are but low;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For as refinement stops, from sire to son<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unaltered, unimproved, the manners run;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And love's and friendship's finely pointed dart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Falls blunted from each indurated heart.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some sterner virtues o'er the mountain's breast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May sit, like falcons cowering on the nest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But all the gentler morals, such as play<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through life's more cultured walks, and charm the way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These, far dispersed, on timorous pinions fly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To sport and flutter in a kinder sky.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To kinder skies, where gentler manners reign,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I turn; and France displays her bright domain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gay, sprightly land of mirth and social ease,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pleased with thyself, whom all the world can please,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How often have I led thy sportive choir,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With tuneless pipe, beside the murmuring Loire!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where shading elms along the margin grew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And freshened from the wave the zephyr flew;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And haply, though my harsh touch, faltering still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But mocked all tune, and marred the dancer's skill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet would the village praise my wondrous power,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dance, forgetful of the noontide hour.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alike all ages: dames of ancient days<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have led their children through the mirthful maze;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the gay grandsire, skilled in gestic lore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has frisked beneath the burthen of threescore.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So blest a life these thoughtless realms display,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus idly busy rolls their world away:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Theirs are those arts that mind to mind endear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For honor forms the social temper here.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Honor, that praise which real merit gains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or even imaginary worth obtains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here passes current; paid from hand to hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It shifts in splendid traffic round the land;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 6532]</a></span><span class="i0">From courts to camps, to cottages it strays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all are taught an avarice of praise:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They please, are pleased, they give to get esteem,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till, seeming blest, they grow to what they seem.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But while this softer art their bliss supplies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It gives their follies also room to rise:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For praise too dearly loved, or warmly sought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enfeebles all internal strength of thought;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the weak soul, within itself unblest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leans for all pleasure on another's breast.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hence ostentation here, with tawdry art,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pants for the vulgar praise which fools impart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here vanity assumes her pert grimace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And trims her robes of frieze with copper lace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here beggar pride defrauds her daily cheer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To boast one splendid banquet once a year:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mind still turns where shifting fashion draws,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor weighs the solid worth of self-applause.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 6533]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="IVAN_ALEKSANDROVITCH_GONCHAROF" id="IVAN_ALEKSANDROVITCH_GONCHAROF"></a>IVÁN ALEKSANDROVITCH GONCHARÓF</h2> + +<h4>(1812-)</h4> + +<h4>BY NATHAN HASKELL DOLE</h4> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 90px;"> +<img src="images/capa.png" width="90" height="90" alt="A" title="A" /> +</div><p class="dropcap">mong the Russian novelists of the first rank stands Iván the +son of Alexander Goncharóf. His life has been almost synchronous +with the century. He was born in 1812 in the +city of Simbirsk, on the Volga below Nizhni Nóvgorod. His father, +a wealthy merchant of that flourishing town, died when the boy was +only three years old, leaving him in the care of his mother, a conscientious +and lovely woman, who, without a remarkable education, +nevertheless determined that her son should have the best that could +be provided. In this she was cordially assisted +by Ivàn's godfather, a retired naval +officer who lived in one of her houses and +was a cultivated, lively, and lovable man, +the centre of the best society of the provincial +city. His tales of travel and adventure +early implanted in the boy a great +passion for reading and study about foreign +lands, and the desire to see the world.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 170px;"> +<img src="images/goncharof.png" width="170" height="211" alt="I.V. Goncharof" title="I.V. Goncharof" /> +<span class="caption"><span class="smcap">I.V. Goncharóf</span></span> +</div> + +<p>He was at first taught at home; then +he was sent to a private school which had +been established by a local priest for the +benefit of neighboring land-owners and +gentry. This priest had been educated at +the Theological School at Kazán, and was +distinguished for his courtly manners and general cultivation. His +wife—for it must be remembered that the Russian priesthood is not +celibate—was a fascinating French woman, and she taught her native +tongue in her husband's school. This remarkable little institution +had a small but select library, and here young Goncharóf indulged +his taste in reading by devouring the Voyages of Captain Cook, Mungo +Park, and others, the histories of Karamzin and Rollin, the poetical +works of Tasso and Fenelon, as well as the romantic fiction of that +day; he was especially fascinated by 'The Heir of Redclyffe.' His +reading, however, was ill regulated and not well adapted for his mental +discipline. At twelve he was taken by his mother to Moscow, +where he had the opportunity to study English and German as well +as to continue his reading in French, in which he had already been +well grounded.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 6534]</a></span></p> + +<p>In 1831 he entered Moscow University, electing the Philological +Faculty. There were at that time in the University a coterie of young +men who afterwards became famous as writers, and the lectures +delivered by a number of enthusiastic young professors were admirably +calculated to develop the best in those who heard them. He +finished the complete course, and after a brief visit at his native place +went to St. Petersburg, where he entered the Ministry of Finance. +Gogol, and Goncharóf himself, have painted the depressing influence +of the officialdom then existing. The <i>chinóvnik</i> as painted by those +early realists was a distinct type. But on the other hand, there was +a delightful society at St. Petersburg, and the literary impulses of talented +young men were fostered by its leaders. Some of these men +founded a new journal of which Salonitsuin was the leading spirit, +and in this appeared Goncharóf's first articles. They were of a +humoristic tendency. His first serious work was entitled 'Obuiknavénnaya +Istóriya' (An Ordinary Story),—a rather melancholy tale, +showing how youthful enthusiasm and the dreams of progress and perfection +can be killed by formalism: Aleksandr Adúyef the romantic +dreamer is contrasted with his practical uncle Peter Ivánovitch. The +second part was not completed when the first part was placed in the +hands of the critic Byelinsky, the sovereign arbiter on things literary. +Byelinsky gave it his "imprimatur," and it was published in the Sovreménnik +(Contemporary) in 1847. The conception of his second and +by all odds his best romance, 'Oblómof,' was already in his mind; +and the first draft was published in the Illustrated Album, under +the title 'Son Oblómova' (Oblómof's Dream), the following year.</p> + +<p>In 1852 Goncharóf received from the Marine Ministry a proposition +to sail around the world as private secretary to Admiral Putyátin. +On his return he contributed to various magazines sketches of his +experiences, and finally published a handsome volume of his travels +entitled 'Phregat Pállada' (The Frigate Pallas). In 1857 he went to +Carlsbad and completed 'Oblómof' on which he had been working +so many years. It appeared in Otetchestvenniya Zapíski (Annals of +the Fatherland) in 1858 and 1859, and made a profound sensation. +The hero was recognized as a perfectly elaborated portrait of a not +uncommon type of Russian character: a good-natured, warm-hearted, +healthy young man, so enervated by the atmosphere of indolence into +which he has allowed himself to sink, that nothing serves to rouse +him. Love is the only impulse which could galvanize him into life. +Across his path comes the beautiful Olga, whom the Russians claim +as a poetic and at the same time a genuine representative of the +best Russian womanhood. Vigorous, alert, with mind and heart +equally well developed, she stirs the latent manhood of Oblómof; but +when he comes to face the responsibilities, the cares, and the duties +of matrimony, he has not the courage to enter upon them. Olga +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 6535]</a></span> +marries Oblómof's friend Stoltz, whom Goncharóf intended to be a no +less typical specimen of Russian manhood, and whom most critics +consider overdrawn and not true to life. The novel is a series of +wonderful <i>genre</i> pictures: his portraits are marvels of finish and delicacy; +and there are a number of dramatic scenes, although the story +as a whole lacks movement. The first chapter, which is here reproduced, +is chosen not as perhaps the finest in the book, but as thoroughly +characteristic. It is also a fine specimen of Russian humor.</p> + +<p>Goncharóf finished in 1868 his third novel, entitled 'Abruíf' (The +Precipice). It was published first in the Viéstnik Yevrópui (European +Messenger), and in book form in 1870. In this he tries to portray the +type of the Russian Nihilist; but Volokhóf is regarded rather as a +caricature than as a faithful portrait. In contrast with him stands +the beautiful Viera; but just as Volokhóf falls below Oblómof, so +Viera yields to Olga in perfect realism. One of the best characters +in the story is the dilettante Raísky, the type of the man who has an +artistic nature but no energy. One of the most important characters +of the book is Viera's grandmother: the German translation of 'The +Precipice' is entitled 'The Grandmother's Fault.'</p> + +<p>Goncharóf has written a few literary essays, and during the past +few years has contributed to one of the Russian reviews a series of +literary recollections. But his fame with posterity will depend principally +on his 'Oblómof,' the name of which has given to the language +a new word,—<i>oblómovshchina</i><a name="FNanchor_A_6" id="FNanchor_A_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_6" class="fnanchor">[F]</a> Oblómovism,—the typically Russian +indolence which was induced by the peculiar social conditions existing +in Russia before the emancipation of the serfs in 1861: indifference +to all social questions; the expectation that others will do your +work; or as expressed in the Russian proverb, "the trusting in others +as in God, but in yourself as in the Devil."</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 323px;"> +<img src="images/sign309.png" width="323" height="143" alt="Nathan Haskell Dole" title="Nathan Haskell Dole" /> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 6536]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="OBLOMOF" id="OBLOMOF"></a>OBLÓMOF</h3> + +<p>In Garókhavaya Street, in one of those immense houses the +population of which would suffice for a whole provincial city, +there lay one morning in bed in his apartment Ílya Ílyitch +Oblómof. He was a pleasant-appearing man of two or three and +twenty, of medium stature, with dark gray eyes; but his face +lacked any fixed idea or concentration of purpose. A thought +would wander like a free bird over his features, flutter in his +eyes, light on his parted lips, hide itself in the wrinkles of his +brow, then entirely vanish away; and over his whole countenance +would spread the shadeless light of unconcern.</p> + +<p>From his face this indifference extended to the attitudes of +his whole body, even to the folds of his dressing-gown. Occasionally +his eyes were darkened by an expression of weariness or +disgust, but neither weariness nor disgust could for an instant +dispel from his face the indolence which was the dominant and +habitual expression not only of his body, but also of his very +soul. And his soul was frankly and clearly betrayed in his +eyes, in his smile, in every movement of his head, of his hands.</p> + +<p>A cool superficial observer, glancing at Oblómof as he passed +him by, would have said, "He must be a good-natured, simple-hearted +fellow." Any one looking deeper, more sympathetically, +would after a few moments' scrutiny turn away with a smile, with +a feeling of agreeable uncertainty.</p> + +<p>Oblómof's complexion was not florid, not tawny, and not positively +pallid, but was indeterminate,—or seemed to be so, perhaps +because it was flabby; not by reason of age, but by lack of +exercise or of fresh air or of both. His body, to judge by the +dull, transparent color of his neck, by his little plump hands, +his drooping shoulders, seemed too effeminate for a man. His +movements, even if by chance he were aroused, were kept under +restraint likewise by a languor and by a laziness that was not +devoid of its own peculiar grace.</p> + +<p>If a shadow of an anxious thought arose from his spirit and +passed across his face, his eyes would grow troubled, the wrinkles +in his brow would deepen, a struggle of doubt or pain would +seem to begin: but rarely indeed would this troubled thought +crystallize into the form of a definite idea; still more rarely +would it be transformed into a project.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 6537]</a></span></p> + +<p>All anxiety would be dissipated in a sigh and settle down into +apathy or languid dreaming.</p> + +<p>How admirably Oblómof's house costume suited his unruffled +features and his effeminate body! He wore a dressing-gown of +Persian material—a regular Oriental <i>khalát</i>, without the slightest +suggestion of anything European about it, having no tassels, no +velvet, no special shape. It was ample in size, so that he might +have wrapped it twice around him. The sleeves, in the invariable +Asiatic style, grew wider and wider from the wrist to the shoulder. +Although this garment had lost its first freshness, and in +places had exchanged its former natural gloss for another that +was acquired, it still preserved the brilliancy of its Oriental coloring +and its firmness of texture.</p> + +<p>The khalát had in Oblómof's eyes a multitude of precious +properties: it was soft and supple; the body was not sensible of +its weight; like an obedient slave, it accommodated itself to every +slightest motion.</p> + +<p>Oblómof while at home always went without cravat and +without waistcoat, for the simple reason that he liked simplicity +and comfort. The slippers which he wore were long, soft, and +wide; when without looking he put down one foot from the bed +to the floor it naturally fell into one of them.</p> + +<p>Oblómof's remaining in bed was not obligatory upon him, as +in the case of a sick man or of one who was anxious to sleep; +nor was it accidental, as in the case of one who was weary; nor +was it for mere pleasure, as a sluggard would have chosen: it +was the normal condition of things with him. When he was at +home—and he was almost always at home—he invariably lay +in bed and invariably in the room where we have just found +him: a room which served him for sleeping-room, library, and +parlor. He had three other rooms, but he rarely glanced into +them; in the morning, perhaps, but even then not every day, +but only when his man came to sweep the rooms—and this, +you may be sure, was not done every day. In these rooms the +furniture was protected with covers; the curtains were always +drawn.</p> + +<p>The room in which Oblómof was lying appeared at first +glance to be handsomely furnished, There were a mahogany +bureau, two sofas upholstered in silk, handsome screens embroidered +with birds and fruits belonging to an imaginary nature. +There were damask curtains, rugs, a number of paintings, bronzes, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 6538]</a></span> +porcelains, and a quantity of beautiful bric-a-brac. But the experienced +eye of a man of pure taste would have discovered at a +single hasty glance that everything there betrayed merely the +desire to keep up appearances in unimportant details, while +really avoiding the burden. That had indeed been Oblómof's +object when he furnished his room. Refined taste would not +have been satisfied with those heavy ungraceful mahogany chairs, +with those conventional étagères. The back of one sofa was dislocated; +the veneering was broken off in places. The same characteristics +were discoverable in the pictures and the vases, and +all the ornaments.</p> + +<p>The proprietor himself, however, looked with such coolness +and indifference on the decoration of his apartment that one +might think he asked with his eyes, "Who brought you here and +set you up?" As the result of such an indifferent manner of +regarding his possessions, and perhaps of the still more indifferent +attitude of Oblómof's servant Zakhár, the appearance of the +room, if it were examined rather more critically, was amazing +because of the neglect and carelessness which held sway there. +On the walls, around the pictures, spiders' webs, loaded with +dust, hung like festoons; the mirrors, instead of reflecting objects, +would have served better as tablets for scribbling memoranda in +the dust that covered them. The rugs were rags. On the sofa +lay a forgotten towel; on the table you would generally find in the +morning a plate or two with the remains of the evening meal, +the salt-cellar, gnawed bones, and crusts of bread. Were it not +for these plates, and the pipe half smoked out and flung down +on the bed, or even the master himself stretched out on it, it +might easily have been supposed that the room was uninhabited, +it was so dusty, so lacking in all traces of human care. On the +étagères, to be sure, lay two or three opened books or a crumpled +newspaper; on the bureau stood an inkstand with pens; but +the pages where the books were open were covered thick with +dust and had turned yellow, evidently long ago thrown aside; the +date of the newspaper was long past; and if any one had dipped +a pen into the inkstand it would have started forth only a frightened, +buzzing fly!</p> + +<p>Ílya Ílyitch was awake, contrary to his ordinary custom, very +early,—at eight o'clock. Some anxiety was preying on his mind. +Over his face passed alternately now apprehension, now annoyance, +now vexation. It was evident that an internal conflict had +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 6539]</a></span> +him in its throes, and his intellect had not as yet come to his +aid.</p> + +<p>The fact was that the evening before, Oblómof had received +from the stárosta (steward) of his estate a letter filled with disagreeable +tidings. It is not hard to guess what unpleasant details +one's steward may write about: bad harvests, large arrearages, +diminution in receipts, and the like. But although his stárosta +had written his master almost precisely the same kind of letter +the preceding year and the year before that, nevertheless this +latest letter came upon him exactly the same, as a disagreeable +surprise.</p> + +<p>Was it not hard?—he was facing the necessity of considering +the means of taking some measures!</p> + +<p>However, it is proper to show how far Ílya Ílyitch was justified +in feeling anxiety about his affairs.</p> + +<p>When he received the first letter of disagreeable tenor from +his stárosta some years before, he was already contemplating a +plan for a number of changes and improvements in the management +of his property. This plan presupposed the introduction of +various new economical and protectional measures; but the details +of the scheme were still in embryo, and the stárosta's disagreeable +letters were annually forthcoming, urging him to activity and +really disturbing his peace of mind. Oblómof recognized the +necessity of coming to some decision if he were to carry out his +plan.</p> + +<p>As soon as he woke he decided to get up, bathe, and after +drinking his tea, to think the matter over carefully, then to write +his letters; and in short, to act in this matter as was fitting. But +for half an hour he had been still in bed tormenting himself with +this proposition; but finally he came to the conclusion that he +would still have time to do it after tea, and that he might drink +his tea as usual in bed with all the more reason, because one can +think even if one is lying down!</p> + +<p>And so he did. After his tea he half sat up in bed, but did +not entirely rise; glancing down at his slippers, he started to put +his foot into one of them, but immediately drew it back into bed +again.</p> + +<p>As the clock struck half-past nine, Ílya Ílyitch started up.</p> + +<p>"What kind of a man am I?" he said aloud in a tone of vexation. +"Conscience only knows. It is time to do something: +where there's a will—Zakhár!" he cried.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 6540]</a></span></p> + +<p>In a room which was separated merely by a narrow corridor +from Ílya Ílyitch's library, nothing was heard at first except the +growling of the watch-dog; then the thump of feet springing +down from somewhere. It was Zakhár leaping down from his +couch on the stove, where he generally spent his time immersed +in drowsiness.</p> + +<p>An elderly man appeared in the room: he was dressed in a +gray coat, through a hole under the armpit of which emerged a +part of his shirt; he also wore a gray waistcoat with brass buttons. +His head was as bald as his knee, and he had enormous +reddish side-whiskers already turning gray—so thick and bushy +that they would have sufficed for three ordinary individuals.</p> + +<p>Zakhár would never have taken pains to change in any respect +either the form which God had bestowed on him, or the +costume which he wore in the country. His raiment was made +for him in the style which he had brought with him from his +village. His gray coat and waistcoat pleased him, for the very +reason that in his semi-fashionable attire he perceived a feeble +approach to the livery which he had worn in former times when +waiting on his former masters (now at rest), either to church or +to parties; but liveries in his recollections were merely representative +of the dignity of the Oblómof family. There was nothing +else to recall to the old man the comfortable and liberal style of +life on the estate in the depths of the country. The older generation +of masters had died, the family portraits were at home, and +in all probability were going to rack and ruin in the garret; the +traditions of the former life and importance of the house of +Oblómof were all extinct, or lived only in the memories of a few +old people still lingering in the country.</p> + +<p>Consequently, precious in the eyes of Zakhár was the gray +coat: in this he saw a faint emblem of vanished greatness, and +he found similar indications in some of the characteristics of his +master's features and notions, reminding of his parentage, and in +his caprices, which although he grumbled at them under his +breath and aloud, yet he prized secretly as manifestations of the +truly imperious will and autocratic spirit of a born noble. Had +it not been for these whims, he would not have felt that his +master was in any sense above him; had it not been for them, +there would have been nothing to bring back to his mind his +younger days, the village which they had abandoned so long ago, +and the traditions about that ancient home,—the sole chronicles +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 6541]</a></span> +preserved by aged servants, nurses, and nursemaids, and handed +down from mouth to mouth.</p> + +<p>The house of the Oblómofs was rich in those days, and had +great influence in that region; but afterwards somehow or other +everything had gone to destruction, and at last by degrees had +sunk out of sight, overshadowed by parvenus of aristocratic +pretensions. Only the few gray-haired retainers of the house +preserved and interchanged their reminiscences of the past, treasuring +them like holy relics.</p> + +<p>This was the reason why Zakhár so loved his gray coat. Possibly +he valued his side-whiskers because of the fact that he saw +in his childhood many of the older servants with this ancient and +aristocratic adornment.</p> + +<p>Ílya Ílyitch, immersed in contemplation, took no notice of +Zakhár, though the servant had been silently waiting for some +time. At last he coughed.</p> + +<p>"What is it you want?" asked Ílya Ílyitch.</p> + +<p>"You called me, didn't you?"</p> + +<p>"Called you? I don't remember what I called you for," he +replied, stretching and yawning. "Go back to your room; I +will try to think what I wanted."</p> + +<p>Zakhár went out, and Ílya Ílyitch lay down on the bed again +and began to cogitate upon that cursed letter.</p> + +<p>A quarter of an hour elapsed.</p> + +<p>"There now," he exclaimed, "I have dallied long enough; I +must get up. However, I must read the stárosta's letter over +again more attentively, and then I will get up—Zakhár!" The +same noise of leaping down from the stove, and the same growling +of the dog, only more emphatic.</p> + +<p>Zakhár made his appearance, but again Oblómof was sunk +deep in contemplation. Zakhár stood a few moments, looking +sulkily and askance at his master, and finally he turned to go.</p> + +<p>"Where are you going?" suddenly demanded Oblómof.</p> + +<p>"You have nothing to say to me, and why should I waste +my time standing here?" explained Zakhár, in a hoarse gasp +which served him in lieu of a voice, he having lost his voice, +according to his own account, while out hunting with the dogs +when he had to accompany his former master, and when a +powerful wind seemed to blow in his throat. He half turned +round, and stood in the middle of the room and glared at his +master.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 6542]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Have your legs quite given out, that you can't stand a minute? +Don't you see I am worried? Now, please wait a moment! +wasn't it lying there just now? Get me that letter which I +received last evening from the stárosta. What did you do with +it?"</p> + +<p>"What letter? I haven't seen any letter," replied Zakhár.</p> + +<p>"Why, you yourself took it from the postman, you scoundrel!"</p> + +<p>"It is where you put it; how should I know anything about +it?" said Zakhár, beginning to rummage about among the papers +and various things that littered the table.</p> + +<p>"You never know anything at all. There, look on the basket. +No, see if it hasn't been thrown on the sofa.—There, the +back of that sofa hasn't been mended yet. Why have you not +got the carpenter to mend it? 'Twas you who broke it. You +never think of anything!"</p> + +<p>"I didn't break it," retorted Zakhár; "it broke itself; it was +not meant to last forever; it had to break some time."</p> + +<p>Ílya Ílyitch did not consider it necessary to refute this argument. +He contented himself with asking:—</p> + +<p>"Have you found it yet?"</p> + +<p>"Here are some letters."</p> + +<p>"But they are not the right ones."</p> + +<p>"Well, there's nothing else," said Zakhár.</p> + +<p>"Very good, be gone," said Ílya Ílyitch impatiently. "I am +going to get up. I will find it."</p> + +<p>Zakhár went to his room, but he had hardly laid his hand on +his couch to climb up to it before the imperative cry was heard +again:—</p> + +<p>"Zakhár! Zakhár!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, good Lord!" grumbled he, as he started to go for the +third time to Oblómof's library. "What a torment all this is! +Oh that death would come and take me from it!"</p> + +<p>"What do you want?" he asked, as he stood with one hand +on the door, and glaring at Oblómof as a sign of his surliness, +at such an angle that he had to look at his master out of the +corner of his eyes; while his master could see only one of his +enormous side-whiskers, so bushy that you might have expected +to have two or three birds come flying out from them.</p> + +<p>"My handkerchief, quick! You might have known what I +wanted. Don't you see?" remarked Ílya Ílyitch sternly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 6543]</a></span></p> + +<p>Zakhár displayed no special dissatisfaction or surprise at such +an order or such a reproach on his master's part, regarding both, +so far as he was concerned, as perfectly natural.</p> + +<p>"But who knows where your handkerchief is?" he grumbled, +circling about the room and making a careful examination of +every chair, although it could be plainly seen that there was +nothing whatever on them.</p> + +<p>"It is a perfect waste of time," he remarked, opening the door +into the drawing-room in order to see if there was any sign of it +there.</p> + +<p>"Where are you going? Look for it here; I have not been +in that room since day before yesterday. And make haste," +urged Ílya Ílyitch.</p> + +<p>"Where is the handkerchief? There isn't any handkerchief," +exclaimed Zakhár rummaging and searching in every corner.</p> + +<p>"Oh, there it is," he suddenly cried angrily, "under you. +There is the end of it sticking out. You were lying on it, and +yet you ask me to find your handkerchief for you!"</p> + +<p>And Zakhár, without awaiting any reply, turned and started +to go out. Oblómof was somewhat ashamed of his own blunder. +But he quickly discovered another pretext for putting Zakhár in +the wrong.</p> + +<p>"What kind of neatness do you call this everywhere here! +Look at the dust and dirt! Good heavens! look here, look here! +See these corners! You don't do anything at all."</p> + +<p>"And so I don't do anything," repeated Zakhár in a tone +betokening deep resentment. "I am growing old, I shan't live +much longer! But God knows I use the duster for the dust, and +I sweep almost every day."</p> + +<p>He pointed to the middle of the floor, and at the table where +Oblómof had dined. "Here, look here," he went on: "it has all +been swept and all put in order, fit for a wedding. What more +is needed?"</p> + +<p>"Well then, what is this?" cried Ílya Ílyitch, interrupting +him and calling his attention to the walls and the ceiling. "And +that? and that?"</p> + +<p>He pointed to a yesterday's napkin which had been flung +down, and to a plate which had been left lying on the table +with a dry crust of bread on it.</p> + +<p>"Well, as for that," said Zakhár as he picked up the plate, +"I will take care of it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 6544]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You will take care of it, will you? But how about the dust +and the cobwebs on the walls?" said Oblómof, making ocular +demonstration.</p> + +<p>"I put that off till Holy Week; then I clean the sacred +images and sweep down the cobwebs."</p> + +<p>"But how about dusting the books and pictures?"</p> + +<p>"The books and pictures? Before Christmas; then Anísiya +and I look over all the closets. But now when should we be +able to do it? You are always at home."</p> + +<p>"I sometimes go to the theatre or go out to dine: you +might—"</p> + +<p>"Do house-cleaning at night?"</p> + +<p>Oblómof looked at him reproachfully, shook his head, and +uttered a sigh; but Zakhár gazed indifferently out of the window +and also sighed deeply. The master seemed to be thinking, +"Well, brother, you are even more of an Oblómof than I am +myself;" while Zakhár probably said to himself, "Rubbish! You +as my master talk strange and melancholy words, but how do +dust and cobwebs concern you?"</p> + +<p>"Don't you know that moths breed in dust?" asked Ílya +Ílyitch. "I have even seen bugs on the wall!"</p> + +<p>"Well, I have fleas on me sometimes," replied Zakhár in a +tone of indifference.</p> + +<p>"Well, is that anything to boast about? That is shameful," +exclaimed Oblómof.</p> + +<p>Zakhár's face was distorted by a smirking smile, which +seemed to embrace even his eyebrows and his side-whiskers, +which for this reason spread apart; and over his whole face up +to his very forehead extended a ruddy spot.</p> + +<p>"Why, am I to blame that there are bugs on the wall?" he +asked in innocent surprise: "was it I who invented them?"</p> + +<p>"They come from lack of cleanliness," insisted Oblómof. +"What are you talking about?"</p> + +<p>"I am not the cause of the uncleanliness."</p> + +<p>"But you have mice in your room there running about at +night—I hear them."</p> + +<p>"I did not invent the mice. There are all kinds of living +creatures—mice and cats and fleas—lots of them everywhere."</p> + +<p>"How is it that other people don't have moths and bugs?"</p> + +<p>Zakhár's face expressed incredulity, or rather a calm conviction +that this was not so.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 6545]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I have plenty of them," he said without hesitation. "One +can't look after every bug and crawl into the cracks after +them."</p> + +<p>It seemed to be his thought, "What kind of a sleeping-room +would that be that had no bugs in it?"</p> + +<p>"Now do you see to it that you sweep and brush them out +of the corners; don't let there be one left," admonished Oblómof.</p> + +<p>"If you get it all cleaned up it will be just as bad again to-morrow," +remonstrated Zakhár.</p> + +<p>"It ought not to be as bad," interrupted the master.</p> + +<p>"But it is," insisted the servant; "I know all about it."</p> + +<p>"Well then, if the dust collects again, brush it out again."</p> + +<p>"What is that you say? Brush out all the corners every +day?" exclaimed Zakhár. "What a life that would be! Better +were it that God should take my soul!"</p> + +<p>"Why are other people's houses clean?" urged Oblómof. +"Just look at the piano-tuner's rooms: see how neat they look, +and only one maid—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, these Germans!" exclaimed Zakhár suddenly interrupting. +"Where do they make any litter? Look at the way they +live! Every family gnaws a whole week on a single bone. The +coat goes from the father's back to the son's, and back from the +son's to the father's. The wives and daughters wear little short +skirts, and when they walk they all lift up their legs like ducks—where +do they get any dirt? They don't do as we do—leave +a whole heap of soiled clothes in the closet for a year at a time, +or fill up the corners with bread crusts for the winter. Their +crusts are never flung down at random: they make zweiback out +of them, and eat them when they drink their beer!"</p> + +<p>Zakhár expressed his disgust at such a penurious way of living +by spitting through his teeth.</p> + +<p>"Say nothing more," expostulated Ílya Ílyitch. "Do better +work with your house-cleaning."</p> + +<p>"One time I would have cleaned up, but you yourself would +not allow it," said Zakhár.</p> + +<p>"That is all done with! Don't you see I have entirely +changed?"</p> + +<p>"Of course you have; but still you stay at home all the time: +how can one begin to clean up when you are right here? If you +will stay out of the house for a whole day, then I will have a +general clearing-up."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 6546]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What an idea! Get out of here. You had better go to your +own room."</p> + +<p>"All right!" persisted Zakhár; "but I tell you, the moment +you go out, Anísiya and I will clear the whole place up. And +we two would finish with it in short metre; then you will want +some women to wash everything."</p> + +<p>"Oh, what schemes you invent! Women! away with you!" +cried Ílya Ílyitch.</p> + +<p>He was by this time disgusted with himself for having led +Zakhár into this conversation. He had quite forgotten that the +attainment of this delicate object was at the expense of considerable +confusion. Oblómof would have liked a state of perfect +cleanliness, but he would require that it should be brought about +in some imperceptible manner, as it were of itself; but Zakhár +always induced a discussion as soon as he was asked to have any +sweeping done, or the floors washed, and the like. In such a +contingency he was sure to point out the necessity of a terrible +disturbance in the house, knowing very well that the mere suggestion +of such a thing would fill his master with horror.</p> + +<p>Zakhár went away, and Oblómof relapsed into cogitation. +After some minutes the half-hour struck again.</p> + +<p>"What time is it?" exclaimed Ílya Ílyitch with a dull sense +of alarm. "Almost eleven o'clock! Can it be that I am not up +yet nor had my bath? Zakhár! Zakhár!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, good God! what is it now?" was heard from the ante-room, +and then the well-known thump of feet.</p> + +<p>"Is my bath ready?" asked Oblómof.</p> + +<p>"Ready? yes, long ago," replied Zakhár. "Why did you not +get up?"</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you tell me it was ready? I should have got up +long ago if you had. Go on; I will follow you immediately. I +have some business to do; I want to write."</p> + +<p>Zakhár went out, but in the course of a few minutes he +returned with a greasy copy-book all scribbled over, and some +scraps of paper.</p> + +<p>"Here, if you want to write—and by the way, be kind enough +to verify these accounts: we need the money to pay them."</p> + +<p>"What accounts? what money?" demanded Ílya Ílyitch with +a show of temper.</p> + +<p>"From the butcher, from the grocer, from the laundress, from +the baker; they all are clamoring for money."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 6547]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Nothing but bother about money," growled Ílya Ílyitch. +"But why didn't you give them to me one at a time instead of +all at once?"</p> + +<p>"You see you always kept putting me off: 'To-morrow,' +always 'To-morrow.'"</p> + +<p>"Well, why shouldn't we put them off till to-morrow now?"</p> + +<p>"No! they are dunning you; they won't give any longer +credit. To-morrow's the first of the month."</p> + +<p>"Akh!" cried Oblómof in vexation, "new bother! Well, why +are you standing there? Put them on the table. I will get +up immediately, take my bath, and look them over," said Ílya +Ílyitch. "Is it all ready for my bath?"</p> + +<p>"What do you mean—'ready'?" said Zakhár.</p> + +<p>"Well, now—"</p> + +<p>With a groan he started to make the preliminary movement +of getting up.</p> + +<p>"I forgot to tell you," began Zakhár, "while you were still +asleep the manager sent word by the dvórnik that it was imperatively +necessary that you vacate the apartment: it is wanted."</p> + +<p>"Well, what of that? If the apartment is wanted of course +we will move out. Why do you bother me with it? This is the +third time you have spoken to me about it."</p> + +<p>"They bother me about it also."</p> + +<p>"Tell them that we will move out."</p> + +<p>"He says, 'For a month you have been promising,' says he, +'and still you don't move out,' says he: 'we'll report the matter +to the police.'"</p> + +<p>"Let him report," cried Oblómof resolutely: "we will move +out as soon as it is a little warmer, in the course of three +weeks."</p> + +<p>"Three weeks, indeed! The manager says that the workmen +are coming in a fortnight: everything is to be torn out. 'Move,' +says he, 'either to-morrow or day after to-morrow.'"</p> + +<p>"Eh—eh—eh—that's too short notice: to-morrow? See here, +what next? How would this minute suit? But don't you dare +speak a word to me about apartments. I have already told you +that once, and here you are again. Do you hear?"</p> + +<p>"But what shall I do?" demanded Zakhár.</p> + +<p>"What shall you do? Now how is he going to get rid of +me?" replied Ílya Ílyitch. "He makes me responsible! How +does it concern me? Don't you trouble me any further, but +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 6548]</a></span> +make any arrangements you please, only so that we don't have +to move yet. Can't you do your best for your master?"</p> + +<p>"But Ílya Ílyitch, little father [bátiushka], what arrangements +shall I make?" began Zakhár in a hoarse whisper. "The house +is not mine; how can we help being driven out of the place if +they resort to force? If only the house were mine, then I would +with the greatest pleasure—"</p> + +<p>"There must be some way of bringing him around: tell him +we have lived here so long; tell him we'll surely pay him."</p> + +<p>"I have," said Zakhár.</p> + +<p>"Well, what did he say?"</p> + +<p>"What did he say? He repeated his everlasting 'Move out,' +says he; 'we want to make repairs on the apartment.' He wants +to do over this large apartment and the doctor's for the wedding +of the owner's son."</p> + +<p>"Oh, my good Lord!" exclaimed Oblómof in despair; "what +asses they are to get married!"</p> + +<p>He turned over on his back.</p> + +<p>"You had better write to the owner, sir," said Zakhár. "Then +perhaps he would not drive us out, but would give us a renewal +of the lease."</p> + +<p>Zakhár as he said this made a gesture with his right hand.</p> + +<p>"Very well, then; as soon as I get up I will write him. You +go to your room and I will think it over. You need not do +anything about this," he added; "I myself shall have to work at +all this miserable business myself."</p> + +<p>Zakhár left the room, and Oblómof began to ponder.</p> + +<p>But he was in a quandary which to think about,—his stárosta's +letter, or the removal to new lodgings, or should he undertake +to make out his accounts? He was soon swallowed up in the +flood of material cares and troubles, and there he still lay turning +from side to side. Every once in a while would be heard +his broken exclamation, "Akh, my God! life touches everything, +reaches everywhere!"</p> + +<p>No one knows how long he would have lain there a prey to +this uncertainty, had not the bell rung in the ante-room.</p> + +<p>"There is some one come already!" exclaimed Oblómof, +wrapping himself up in his khalát, "and here I am not up yet; +what a shame! Who can it be so early?"</p> + +<p>And still lying on his bed, he gazed curiously at the door.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 6549]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="THE_BROTHERS_DE_GONCOURT" id="THE_BROTHERS_DE_GONCOURT"></a>THE BROTHERS DE GONCOURT</h2> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Edmond</span> (1822-1896)<br /> +<span class="smcap">Jules</span> (1830-1870)</h4> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 90px;"> +<img src="images/cape.png" width="90" height="91" alt="E" title="E" /> +</div><p class="dropcap">dmond and Jules Huot De Goncourt, French writers who +became famous alike for the perfectness of their collaboration, +the originality of their methods, and the finish of their +style, were born, the first in Nancy in 1822, the other in Paris in 1830. +Until the death of Jules in 1870 they wrote nothing for the public +that did not bear both their names; and so entirely identical were +their tastes and judgment that it is impossible to say of a single sentence +they composed that it was the sole product of one or the other. +"Charming writers," Victor Hugo called +them; "in unison a powerful writer, two +minds from which springs a single jet of +talent." Born of a noble family of moderate +wealth, they were educated as became their +station in life. Both had an early leaning +toward the arts; but Edmond, in deference +to the wishes of his family, took a government +appointment and held the office till +the death of his mother, when he was +twenty-six years of age. Their father had +died while they were boys.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 170px;"> +<img src="images/goncourt.png" width="170" height="211" alt="Edmond De Goncourt" title="Edmond De Goncourt" /> +<span class="caption"><span class="smcap">Edmond De Goncourt</span></span> +</div> + +<p>Drawn together by their common bereavement +and the death-bed injunction of their +parent that Edmond should be the careful +guardian of his younger brother, whose health had always been delicate, +the young men then began a companionship which was broken +only by death. They set out to make themselves acquainted with +southern Europe, and at the same time to escape the political turmoils +of Paris; and extended their travels into Africa, which country they +found so congenial that in the first ardor of their enthusiasm they +determined to settle there. Business arrangements, however, soon +recalled them to Paris, where ties of friendship and other agreeable +associations bound them fast to their native soil. They took up their +residence in the metropolis, where they lived until a short time +before the death of Jules, when, to be free from the roar of the city, +they purchased a house in one of the suburbs. Their intellectual +development may be traced through their Journal and letters to +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 6550]</a></span> +intimate friends, published by the surviving brother. From these it +appears that most of their leisure hours during their travels were +taken up with painting and drawing. Jules had attempted some dramatic +compositions while at college, and Edmond had been strongly +drawn to literature by the conversation of an aunt, of whom he saw +much before his mother's death. It was while engaged with their +brushes in 1850 that it occurred to the brothers to take up writing as +a regular vocation; and thus was begun their remarkable literary +partnership.</p> + +<p>Their first essay was a drama. It was rejected; whereupon, nothing +daunted, they wrote a novel. It was entitled '18—,' and it is interesting +to observe that here, at the very outset of their career, they +seem to have had in mind the keynote of the chord on which they +ever afterwards played: the eighteenth century was the chief source +of their inspiration, and it was their life's endeavor to explore it and +reproduce it for their contemporaries with painstaking fidelity. The +novel engaged their serious and earnest attention, and when it was +given to the publisher they watched for its appearance with painful +anxiety. Unfortunately it was announced for the very day on which +occurred the <i>Coup d'État</i>. The book came out when Paris was in an +uproar; and though Jules Janin, one of the most influential critics of +the day, unexpectedly exploited it at great length in the Journal des +Débats, its circulation in that first edition was not more than sixty +copies, most of which were distributed gratuitously.</p> + +<p>The blow was a hard one, but the brothers were not thus to be +silenced, nor by the subsequent failure of other dramatic ventures and +an effort to found a newspaper. They had been little more than +imitators. They now entered the field they soon made their own. +The writers of their day were for the most part classicists; a few +before Victor Hugo were romanticists. The De Goncourts stood +for the modern, what they could see and touch. In this way they +became realists. What their own senses could not apprehend they at +once rejected; all they saw they deemed worthy to be reproduced. +They lived in a period of reconstruction after the devastation of the +revolution. The refinement and elegance of the society of the later +Bourbon monarchy, still within view, they yearned for and sought to +restore. A series of monographs dealing with the art and the stage +of these days, which appeared in 1851-2, won for them the first real +recognition they enjoyed. These were followed by various critical +essays on the same subjects, contributed to newspapers and periodicals, +and a novel, 'La Lorette,' which had a large sale and marked +the beginning of their success from a financial point of view. "This +makes us realize," they wrote in their Journal, "that one can actually +sell a book."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 6551]</a></span></p> + +<p>Their reputation as men of letters was established by the publication +in 1854-5 of 'Histoire de la Société Pendant la Revolution' and +the same 'Pendant le Directoire' the aim of which, they said, was +"to paint in vivid, simple colors the France of 1789 to 1800." This +object they accomplished, so far as it concerned the society of which +they themselves were descendants; but the reactionary spirit in them +was too strong for an impartial view of the struggle, and their lack +of true philosophic spirit and broad human sympathy led them to +make a picture that, interesting as it is, is sadly distorted. Their +vivid colors are lavished mainly on the outrages of the rioters and +the sufferings of the aristocrats. But for wealth of detail, the result +of tireless research, the history is of value as a record of the manners +and customs of the fashionable set of the period. Of the same +sort were their other semi-historical works: 'Portraits Intimes du +XVIIIième Siècle,' separate sketches of about a hundred more or +less well-known figures of the age; 'L'Histoire de Marie Antoinette,' +and 'La Femme au XVIIIième Siècle,' in which the gossip and +anecdote of former generations are told again almost as graphically +as are those which the authors relate of their own circle in their +memoirs. Their most important contribution to literature was their +'L'Art au XVIIIième Siècle,' monographs gathered and published +in seventeen volumes, and representing a dozen years' labor. This +was indeed a labor of love, and it was not in vain; for it was these +appreciative studies more than anything else that turned public attention +to the almost forgotten delicacy of the school of painters headed +by Watteau, Fragonard, Latour, Boucher, Debricourt, and Greuze, +whose influence has ever since been manifested on the side of sound +taste and sanity in French art.</p> + +<p>A volume entitled 'Idées et Sensations,' and their Journal and +letters, complete the list of the more important of their works outside +the field of fiction. The Journal will always be valuable as an +almost complete document of the literary history of France in their +time, made up as it is of impressions of and from the most important +writers of the day, with whom they were on terms of intimate friendship, +including Flaubert, Gautier, Renan, Sainte-Beuve, Hugo, Saint-Victor, +Michelet, Zola, and George Sand. In fiction the De Goncourts +were less prolific, but it is to their novels mainly that they owe their +reputation for individuality, and as true "path-breakers" in literature. +They have been called the initiators of modern French realism. Their +friend Flaubert perhaps better deserves the title. Their determination +to see for themselves all that could be seen, the result of which +gave real worth to their historical work, even where their prejudice +robbed it of weight, was what put the stamp of character upon +their novels. How much importance they attached to correct and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 6552]</a></span> +comprehensive observation may be gathered from their remark, "The +art of learning how to see demands the longest apprenticeship of all +the arts." They took life as they found it, examined it on every side,—rarely +going far under the surface,—and then sought to reproduce it +on their pages as the artist would put it on canvas. Capable of terseness, +of suggestiveness, quick to note and communicate the vital spark, +they were yet rarely content with it alone. Every minute particle of +the body it vivified, they insisted on adding to their picture. Nothing +was to be taken for granted; as nothing was accepted by them at +second hand, so nothing was left to the imagination of the reader +until their comprehensive view was his. It was in this way that they +were realists. They did not seek out and expose to public view the +grossness and unpleasantness of life. Their own preference was for +the beautiful, and in their own lives they indulged their refined +tastes. But they looked squarely at the world about them, the ugly +with the beautiful, the impure with the pure, and they did not hesitate +to describe one almost as faithfully as the other.</p> + +<p>Curiously, the discrimination against the masses and the bias that +mar their history do not appear in their fiction. "They began writing +history which was nothing but romance," says one of their critics, +"and later wrote romance which in reality is history." Indeed, their +novels are little more than sketches of what occurred around them. +'Madame Gervaisais' is a character study of the aunt of strong literary +predilections who influenced Edmond; 'Germinie Lacerteux' is +the biography of their servant, at whose death, after long and faithful +service, they discovered that she had led a life of singular +duplicity; 'Sœur Philomène' is a terribly true glimpse of hospital +life, and 'Manette Salomon,' with its half-human monkey drawn from +the life, is transferred without change from the Parisian studios under +the Empire. 'Renee Mauperin' comes nearest to the model of an +ordinary novel; but no one can read of the innocent tomboy girl +struck down with fatal remorse at the consequences of her own natural +action, on learning of her brother's dishonor, without feeling +that this picture too was drawn from the life. Several of their +stories were dramatized, but with scant success; and a play which +they wrote, 'Henriette Maréchal' and had produced at the Comédie +Française through the influence of Princess Mathilde, their constant +friend and patroness, was almost howled down,—chiefly however for +political reasons.</p> + +<p>After the death of Jules de Goncourt, his brother wrote several +books of the same character as those which they produced in union, +the best known of which are 'La Fille Élisa,' and 'Chérie,' a study +of a girl, said to have been inspired by the Journal of Marie Bashkirtseff. +The best critics in France, notably Saïnte-Beuve, have given +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 6553]</a></span> +the brothers Goncourt a very high place in literature and conceded +their originality. English reviewers have been less ready to exalt +them, mainly on account of the offensive part of their realism. They +have objected also to their superficiality as historians, and to their +sympathy with the sentimental admirers of such types as Marie +Antoinette; but they too have been ready to praise the brothers as +leaders of a new fashion, and especially for their devotion to style. +In this respect the Goncourts have few rivals in French literature. +Balzac himself was not more finical in the choice of words, or more +unsparing of his time and energy in writing and re-writing until his +exact meaning, no more or less, had been expressed; and they covered +up the marks of their toil better than he. In a letter to Zola, +Edmond de Goncourt said:—"My own idea is that my brother died +of work, and above all from the desire to elaborate the artistic form, +the chiseled phrase, the workmanship of style." He himself spent a +long life at this fine artistry, and died in Paris in July, 1896.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="TWO_FAMOUS_MEN" id="TWO_FAMOUS_MEN"></a>TWO FAMOUS MEN</h3> + +<h4>From the Journal of the De Goncourts</h4> + +<p>March 3<span class="smcap">D</span> [1862].—We took a walk and went off to find Théophile +Gautier.... The street in which he lives is +composed of the most squalid countrified buildings, of +court-yards swarming with poultry, fruit shops whose doors are +ornamented with little brooms of black feathers: just such a suburban +street as Hervier might have painted.... We pushed +open the door of a house, and found ourselves in the presence +of the lord of epithet. The furniture was of gilded wood, covered +with red damask, after the heavy Venetian style; there were fine +old pictures of the Italian school; above the chimney a mirror +innocent of quicksilver, on which were scraped colored arabesques +and various Persian characters,—such a picture of meagre sumptuousness +and faded splendor as one would find in the rooms of a +retired actress, who had come in for some pictures through the +bankruptcy of an Italian manager.</p> + +<p>When we asked him if we were disturbing him, he answered: +"Not at all. I never work at home. I get through my 'copy' +at the printing-office. They set up the type as I write. The +smell of the printers' ink is a sure stimulant to work, for one +feels the 'copy' must be handed in. I could write only a novel +in this way now; unless I saw ten lines printed I could not get +on to the next ten. The proof-sheet serves as a test to one's +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 6554]</a></span> +work. That which is already done becomes impersonal, but the +actual 'copy' is part of yourself; it hangs like filaments from +the root of your literary life, and has not yet been torn away. I +have always been preparing corners where I should do my work, +but when installed there I found I could do nothing. I must be +in the midst of things, and can work only when a racket is going +on about me; whereas, when I shut myself up for work the solitude +tells upon me and makes me sad."</p> + +<p>From there Gautier got on the subject of the 'Queen of +Sheba.' We admitted our infirmity, our physical incapacity of +taking in musical sound; and indeed, a military band is the highest +musical enjoyment of which we are capable. Whereupon +Gautier said, "Well, I'm delighted to hear that: I am just like +you; I prefer silence to music. I do know bad music from good, +because part of my life was spent with a singer, but both are +quite indifferent to me. Still it is curious that all the literary +men of our day feel the same about music. Balzac abhorred it, +Hugo cannot endure it, Lamartine has a horror of it. There +are only a few painters who have a taste for it."</p> + +<p>Then Gautier fell to complaining of the times. "Perhaps I +am getting an old man, but I begin to feel as if there were no +more air to breathe. What is the use of wings if there is no air +in which one can soar? I no longer feel as if I belonged to the +present generation. Yes, 1830 was a glorious epoch, but I was +too young by two or three years; I was not carried away by the +current; I was not ready for it. I ought to have produced a +very different sort of work."</p> + +<p>There was then some talk of Flaubert, of his literary methods, +of his indefatigable patience, and of the seven years he +devoted to a work of four hundred pages. "Just listen," observed +Gautier, "to what Flaubert said to me the other day: 'It +is finished. I have only ten more pages to write; but the ends +of my sentences are all in my head.' So that he already hears +in anticipation the music of the last words of his sentences before +the sentences themselves have been written. Was it not a quaint +expression to use? I believe he has devised a sort of literary +rhythm. For instance, a phrase which begins in slow measure +must not finish with a quick pace, unless some special effect is +to be produced. Sometimes the rhythm is only apparent to himself, +and escapes our notice. A story is not written for the +purpose of being read aloud: yet he shouts his to himself as +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 6555]</a></span> +he writes them. These shouts present to his own ears harmonies, +but his readers seem unaware of them."</p> + +<p>Gautier's daughters have a charm of their own, a species of +Oriental languor, deep dreamy eyes, veiled by heavy eyelids, and +a regularity in their gestures and movements which they inherit +from their father; but this regularity is tempered in them by +womanly grace. There is a charm about them which is not all +French; nevertheless there is a French element about it, their +little tomboyish tricks and expressions, their habit of pouting, +the shrugging of their shoulders, the irony which escapes through +the thin veil of childishness intended to conceal it. All these +points distinguish them from ordinary society girls, and make +clear a strong individuality of character which renders them fearless +in expressing their likings and antipathies. They display +liberty of speech, and have often the manner of a woman whose +face is hidden by a mask; and yet one finds here simplicity, +candor, and a charming absence of reserve, utterly unknown to +the ordinary young girl.</p> + +<hr style='width: 15%;' /> + +<p>November 23<span class="smcap">D</span> [1863].—We have been to thank Michelet for +the flattering lines he wrote about us.</p> + +<p>He lives in the Rue de l'Ouest, at the end of the Jardin +du Luxembourg, in a large house which might almost be +workmen's dwellings. His flat is on the third floor. A maid +opened the door and announced us. We penetrated into a small +study.</p> + +<p>The wife of the historian has a young, serious face; she was +seated on a chair beside the desk on which the lamp was placed, +with her back to the window. Michelet sat on a couch of green +velvet, and was banked up by cushions.</p> + +<p>His attitude reminded us of his historical work: the lower +portions of his body were in full sight, whilst the upper were +half concealed; the face was a mere shadow surrounded with +snowy white locks; from this shadowy mass emerged a professorial, +sonorous, singsong voice, consciously important, and in which +the ascending and descending scale produced a continuous cooing +sound.</p> + +<p>He spoke to us in a most appreciative manner of our study +of Watteau, and then passed on to the interesting study which +might be written on French furniture.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 6556]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You gentlemen, who are observers of human nature," he +cried suddenly, "there is a history you should write,—the history +of the lady's-maid. I do not speak of Madame de Maintenon; +but you have Mademoiselle de Launai, the Duchesse de Grammont's +Julie, who exercised on her mistress so great an influence, +especially in the Corsican affair. Madame Du Deffand said sometimes +that there were only two people sincerely attached to her, +D'Alembert and her maid. Oh! domesticity has played a great +part in history, though men-servants have been of comparative +unimportance....</p> + +<p>"I was once going through England, traveling from York to +Halifax. There were pavements in the country lanes, with the +grass growing on each side as carefully kept as the pavements +themselves; close by, sheep were grazing, and the whole scene +was lit up by gas. A singular sight!"</p> + +<p>Then after a short pause:—"Have you noticed that the physiognomy +of the great men of to-day is so rarely in keeping with +their intellect? Look at their portraits, their photographs: there +are no longer any good portraits. Remarkable people no longer +possess in their faces anything which distinguishes them from +ordinary folk. Balzac had nothing characteristic. Would you +recognize Lamartine if you saw him? There is nothing in the +shape of his head, or in his lustreless eyes, nothing but a certain +elegance which age has not affected. The fact is that in these +days there is too great an accumulation of people and things, +much more so than in former times. We assimilate too much +from other people, and this being the case, we lose even the +individuality of our features; we present the portrait of a collective +set of people rather than of ourselves."</p> + +<p>We rose to take our leave; he accompanied us to the door; +then by the light of the lamp he carried in his hand we saw, +for a second at least, this marvelous historian of dreams, the +great somnambulist of the past and brilliant talker of the present.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 6557]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="THE_SUICIDE" id="THE_SUICIDE"></a>THE SUICIDE</h3> + +<h4>From 'Sister Philomène'</h4> + +<p>The next morning the whole hospital knew that Barnier, having +scratched his hand on the previous day while dissecting +a body in a state of purulent infection, was dying in terrible +agonies.</p> + +<p>When at four o'clock Malivoire, quitting for a few moments +the bedside of his friend, came to replace him in the service, the +Sister went up to him. She followed from bed to bed, dogging +his steps, without however accosting him, without speaking, +watching him intently with her eyes fixed on his. As he was +leaving the ward:—</p> + +<p>"Well?" she asked, in the brief tone with which women stop +the doctor on his last visit at the threshold of the room.</p> + +<p>"No hope," said Malivoire, with a gesture of despair; "there +is nothing to be done. It began at his right ankle, went up the +leg and thigh, and has attacked all the articulations. Such agonies, +poor fellow! It will be a mercy when it's over."</p> + +<p>"Will he be dead before night?" asked the Sister calmly.</p> + +<p>"Oh no! He will live through the night. It is the same +case as that of Raguideau three years ago; and Raguideau lasted +forty-eight hours."</p> + +<p>That evening, at ten o'clock, Sister Philomène might be seen +entering the church of Notre Dame des Victoires.</p> + +<p>The lamps were being lowered, the lighted tapers were being +put out one by one with a long-handled extinguisher. The priest +had just left the vestry.</p> + +<p>The Sister inquired where he lived, and was told that his +house was a couple of steps from the church, in the Rue de la +Banque.</p> + +<p>The priest was just going into the house when she entered +behind, pushing open the door he was closing.</p> + +<p>"Come in, Sister," he said, unfurling his wet umbrella and +placing it on the tiled floor in the ante-room. And he turned +toward her. She was on her knees. "What are you doing, +Sister?" he said, astonished at her attitude. "Get up, my child. +This is not a fit place. Come, get up!"</p> + +<p>"You will save him, will you not?" and Philomène caught +hold of the priest's hands as he stretched them out to help her to +rise. "Why do you object to my remaining on my knees?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 6558]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Come, come, my child, do not be so excited. It is God alone, +remember, who can save. I can but pray."</p> + +<p>"Ah! you can only pray," she said in a disappointed tone. +"Yes, that is true."</p> + +<p>And her eyes sank to the ground. After a moment's pause +the priest went on:—</p> + +<p>"Come, Sister, sit down there. You are calmer now, are you +not? Tell me, what is it you want?"</p> + +<p>"He is dying," said Philomène, rising as she spoke. "He will +probably not live through the night;" and she began to cry. "It +is for a young man of twenty-seven years of age; he has never +performed any of his religious duties, never been near a church, +never prayed to God since his first communion. He will refuse +to listen to anything. He no longer knows a prayer even. He +will listen neither to priest nor any one. And I tell you it is +all over with him,—he is dying. Then I remembered your Confraternity +of Notre Dame des Victoires, since it is devoted to those +who do not believe. Come, you must save him!"</p> + +<p>"My daughter—"</p> + +<p>"And perhaps he is dying at this very moment. Oh! promise +me you will do all at once, all that is in the Confraternity book; +the prayers,—everything, in short. You will have him prayed +for at once, won't you?"</p> + +<p>"But, my poor child, it is Friday to-day, and the Confraternity +only meets on Thursday."</p> + +<p>"Thursday only—why? It will be too late Thursday. He will +never live till Thursday. Come, you must save him; you have +saved many another."</p> + +<p>Sister Philomène looked at the priest with wide-opened eyes, +in which through her tears rose a glance of revolt, impatience, +and command. For one instant in that room there was no longer +a Sister standing before a priest, but a woman face to face with +an old man.</p> + +<p>The priest resumed:—</p> + +<p>"All I can do at present for that young man, my dear daughter, +is to apply to his benefit all the prayers and good works that +are being carried on by the Confraternity, and I will offer them +up to the Blessed and Immaculate Heart of Mary to obtain his +conversion. I will pray for him to-morrow at mass, and again on +Saturday and Sunday."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I am so thankful," said Philomène, who felt tears rise +gently to her eyes as the priest spoke to her. "Now I am full +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 6559]</a></span> +of hope; he will be converted, he will have pity on himself. Give +me your blessing for him."</p> + +<p>"But Sister, I only bless from the altar, in the pulpit, or in +the confessional. There only am I the minister of God. Here, +my Sister, here I am but a weak man, a miserable sinner."</p> + +<p>"That does not signify; you are always God's minister, and +you cannot, you would not, refuse me; he is at the point of +death."</p> + +<p>She fell on her knees as she spoke. The priest blessed her, +and added:—</p> + +<p>"It is nearly eleven o'clock, Sister; you have nearly three +miles to get home, all Paris to cross at this late hour."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I am not afraid," replied Philomène with a smile; +"God knows why I am in the street. Moreover, I will tell my +beads on the way. The Blessed Virgin will be with me."...</p> + +<p>The same evening, Barnier, rousing himself from a silence +that had lasted the whole day, said to Malivoire, "You will write +to my mother. You will tell her that this often happens in our +profession."</p> + +<p>"But you are not yet as bad as all that, my dear fellow," +replied Malivoire, bending over the bed. "I am sure I shall +save you."</p> + +<p>"No, I chose my man too well for that. How well I took +you in, my poor Malivoire!" and he smiled almost. "You understand, +I could not kill myself. I did not wish to be the death of +my old mother. But an accident—that settles everything. You +will take all my books, do you hear? and my case of instruments +also. I wish you to have all. You wonder why I have killed +myself, don't you? Come nearer. It is on account of that +woman. I never loved but her in all my life. They did not +give her enough chloroform; I told them so. Ah! if you had +heard her scream when she awoke—before it was over! That +scream still re-echoes in my ears! However," he continued, after +a nervous spasm, "if I had to begin again, I would choose some +other way of dying, some way in which I should not suffer so +much. Then, you know, she died, and I fancied I had killed +her. She is ever before me,... covered with blood.... And +then I took to drinking. I drank because I love her still.... +That's all!"</p> + +<p>Barnier relapsed into silence. After a long pause, he again +spoke, and said to Malivoire:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 6560]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>"You will tell my mother to take care of the little lad."</p> + +<p>After another pause, the following words escaped him:—</p> + +<p>"The Sister would have said a prayer."</p> + +<p>Shortly after, he asked:—</p> + +<p>"What o'clock is it?"</p> + +<p>"Eleven."</p> + +<p>"Time is not up yet;... I have still some hours to live.... +I shall last till to-morrow."</p> + +<p>A little later he again inquired the time, and crossing his +hands on his breast, in a faint voice he called Malivoire and +tried to speak to him. But Malivoire could not catch the words +he muttered.</p> + +<p>Then the death-rattle began, and lasted till morn....</p> + +<p>A candle lighted up the room.</p> + +<p>It burnt slowly, it lighted up the four white walls on which +the coarse ochre paint of the door and of the two cupboards cut +a sharp contrast....</p> + +<p>On the iron bedstead with its dimity curtains, a sheet lay +thrown over a motionless body, molding the form as wet linen +might do, indicating with the inflexibility of an immutable line +the rigidity, from the tip of the toes to the sharp outline of the +face, of what it covered.</p> + +<p>Near a white wooden table Malivoire, seated in a large +wicker arm-chair, watched and dozed, half slumbering and yet +not quite asleep.</p> + +<p>In the silence of the room nothing could be heard but the +ticking of the dead man's watch.</p> + +<p>From behind the door something seemed gently to move and +advance, the key turned in the lock, and Sister Philomène stood +beside the bed. Without looking at Malivoire, without seeing +him, she knelt down and prayed in the attitude of a kneeling +marble statue; and the folds of her gown were as motionless as +the sheet that covered the dead man.</p> + +<p>At the end of a quarter of an hour she rose, walked away +without once looking round, and disappeared.</p> + +<p>The next day, awaking at the hollow sound of the coffin +knocking against the narrow stairs, Malivoire vaguely recalled +the night's apparition, and wondered if he had dreamed it; and +going mechanically up to the table by the bedside, he sought +for the lock of hair he had cut off for Barnier's mother: the +lock of hair had vanished.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 6561]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="THE_AWAKENING" id="THE_AWAKENING"></a>THE AWAKENING</h3> + +<h4>From 'Renée Mauperin'</h4> + +<p>A little stage had been erected at the end of the Mauperins' +drawing-room. The footlights were hidden behind a screen +of foliage and flowering shrubs. Renée, with the help of +her drawing-master, had painted the curtain, which represented +a view on the banks of the Seine. On either side of the stage +hung a bill, on which were these words, written by hand:—</p> + +<p class="center"> +LA BRICHE THEATRE<br /> +<small>THIS EVENING,</small><br /><br /> +'<span class="smcap">The Caprice</span>,'<br /><br /> +To conclude with<br /> +'<span class="smcap">Harlequin, A Bigamist.</span>'</p> + +<p>And then followed the names of the actors.</p> + +<p>On all the chairs in the house, which had been seized and +arranged in rows before the stage, women in low gowns were +squeezed together, mixing their skirts, their lace, the sparkle of +their diamonds, and the whiteness of their shoulders. The folding +doors of the drawing-room had been taken down, and showed, +in the little drawing-room which led to the dining-room, a crowd +of men in white neckties, standing on tiptoe.</p> + +<p>The curtain rose upon 'The Caprice.' Renée played with much +spirit the part of Madame de Léry. Henry, as the husband, revealed +one of those real theatrical talents which are often found +in cold young men and in grave men of the world. Naomi herself—carried +away by Henry's acting, carefully prompted by +Denoisel from behind the scenes, a little intoxicated by her audience—played +her little part of a neglected wife very tolerably. +This was a great relief to Madame Bourjot. Seated in the front +row, she had followed her daughter with anxiety. Her pride +dreaded a failure. The curtain fell, the applause burst out, and +all the company were called for. Her daughter had not been +ridiculous; she was happy in this great success, and she composedly +gave herself up to the speeches, opinions, congratulations, +which, as in all representations of private theatricals, followed +the applause and continued in murmurs. Amidst all that she +thus vaguely heard, one sentence, pronounced close by her, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 6562]</a></span> +reached her ears clear and distinct above the buzz of general +conversation:—"Yes, it is his sister, I know; but I think that +for the part he is not sufficiently in love with her, and really +too much in love with his wife: did you notice it?" And the +speaker, feeling that she was being overheard by Madame Bourjot, +leaned over and whispered in her neighbor's ear. Madame +Bourjot became serious.</p> + +<p>After a pause the curtain went up again, and Henry Mauperin +appeared as Pierrot or Harlequin, not in the traditional +sack of white calico and black cap, but as an Italian harlequin, +with a white three-cornered hat, and dressed entirely in white +satin from head to foot. A shiver of interest ran through the +women, proving that the costume and the man were both charming; +and the folly began.</p> + +<p>It was the mad story of Pierrot, married to one woman and +wishing to marry another; a farce intermingled with passion, +which had been unearthed by a playwright, with the help of a +poet, from a collection of old comic plays. Renée this time acted +the part of the neglected woman, who in various disguises interfered +between her husband and his gallant adventures, and Naomi +that of the woman he loved. Henry, in his scenes of love with +the latter, carried all before him. He played with youth, with +brilliancy, with excitement. In the scene in which he avows his +love, his voice was full of the passionate cry of a declaration +which overflows and swamps everything. True, he had to act +with the prettiest Columbine in the world: Naomi looked delicious +that evening in her bridal costume of Louis XVI., copied exactly +from the 'Bride's Minuet,' a print by Debucourt, which Barousse +had lent for the purpose.</p> + +<p>A sort of enchantment filled the whole room, and reached +Madame Bourjot; a sort of sympathetic complicity with the actors +seemed to encourage the pretty couple to love one another. The +piece went on. Now and again Henry's eyes seemed to look for +those of Madame Bourjot, over the footlights. Meanwhile, Renée +appeared disguised as the village bailiff; it only remained to sign +the contract; Pierrot, taking the hand of the woman he loved, +began to tell her of all the happiness he was going to have with +her.</p> + +<p>The woman who sat next to Madame Bourjot felt her lean +somewhat on her shoulder. Henry finished his speech, the piece +disentangled itself and came to an end. All at once Madame +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 6563]</a></span> +Bourjot's neighbor saw something glide down her arm; it was +Madame Bourjot, who had just fainted.</p> + +<hr style='width: 15%;' /> + +<p>"Oh, do pray go indoors," said Madame Bourjot to the people +who were standing around her. She had been carried into the +garden. "It is past now; it is really nothing; it was only the +heat." She was quite pale, but she smiled. "I only want a little +air. Let M. Henry only stay with me."</p> + +<p>The audience retired. Scarcely had the sound of feet died +away, when—"You love her!" said Madame Bourjot, seizing +Henry's arm as though she were taking him prisoner with her +feverish hands; "you love her!"</p> + +<p>"Madame—" said Henry.</p> + +<p>"Hold your tongue! you lie!" And she threw his arm from +her. Henry bowed.—"I know all. I have seen all. But look +at me!" and with her eyes she closely scanned his face. Henry +stood before her, his head bent.—"At least speak to me! You +can speak, at any rate! Ah, I see it,—you can only act in her +company!"</p> + +<p>"I have nothing to say to you, Laura," said Henry in his +softest and clearest voice. Madame Bourjot started at this name +of Laura as though he had touched her. "I have struggled for +a year, madame," began Henry; "I have no excuse to make. +But my heart is fast. We knew each other as children. The +charm has grown day by day. I am very unhappy, madame, at +having to acknowledge the truth to you. I love your daughter, +that is true."</p> + +<p>"But have you ever spoken to her? I blush for her when +there are people there! Have you ever looked at her? Do you +think her pretty? What possesses you men? Come! I am +better-looking than she is! You men are fools. And besides, my +friend, I have spoiled you. Go to her and ask her to caress your +pride, to tickle your vanity, to flatter and to serve your ambitions,—for +you are ambitious: I know you! Ah, M. Mauperin, one +can only find that once in a lifetime! And it is only women of +my age, old women like me,—do you hear me?—who love the +future of the people whom they love! You were not my lover, +you were my grandchild!" And at this word, her voice sounded +as though it came from the bottom of her heart. Then immediately +changing her tone—"But don't be foolish! I tell you +you don't really love my daughter; it is not true: she is rich!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 6564]</a></span></p> + +<p>"O madame!"</p> + +<p>"Good gracious! there are lots of people. They have been +pointed out to me. It pays sometimes to begin with the mother +and finish with the dower. And a million, you know, will gild +a good many pills."</p> + +<p>"Speak lower, I implore—for your own sake: some one has +just opened a window."</p> + +<p>"Calmness is very fine, M. Mauperin, very fine, very fine," +repeated Madame Bourjot. And her low, hissing voice seemed +to stifle her.</p> + +<p>Clouds were scudding across the sky, and passed over the +moon looking like huge bats' wings. Madame Bourjot gazed +fixedly into the darkness, straight in front of her. Her elbows +resting on her knees, her weight thrown on to her heels, she +was beating with the points of her satin shoes the gravel of the +path. After a few minutes she sat upright, stretched out her +arms two or three times wildly and as though but half awake; +then, hastily and with jerks, she pushed her hand down between +her gown and her waistband, pressing her hand against the ribbon +as though she would break it. Then she rose and began to +walk. Henry followed her.</p> + +<p>"I intend, sir, that we shall never see each other again," she +said to him, without turning round.</p> + +<p>As they passed near the basin, she handed him her handkerchief:—</p> + +<p>"Wet that for me."</p> + +<p>Henry put one knee on the margin and gave her back the +lace, which he had moistened. She laid it on her forehead and +on her eyes. "Now let us go in," she said; "give me your +arm."</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear madame, what courage!" said Madame Mauperin, +going to meet Madame Bourjot as she entered; "but it is unwise +of you. Let me order your carriage."</p> + +<p>"On no account," answered Madame Bourjot hastily: "I thank +you. I promised that I would sing for you, I think. I am going +to sing."</p> + +<p>And Madame Bourjot advanced to the piano, graceful and +valiant, with the heroic smile on her face wherewith the actors +of society hide from the public the tears that they shed within +themselves, and the wounds which are only known to their own +hearts.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 6565]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="EDMUND_GOSSE" id="EDMUND_GOSSE"></a>EDMUND GOSSE</h2> + +<h4>(1849-)</h4> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 90px;"> +<img src="images/cape.png" width="90" height="91" alt="E" title="E" /> +</div><p class="dropcap">dmund William Gosse, or Edmund Gosse, to give him the +name he has of late years adopted, is a Londoner, the son +of P.H. Gosse, an English zoölogist of repute. His education +did not embrace the collegiate training, but he was brought up +amid cultured surroundings, read largely, and when but eighteen was +appointed an assistant librarian in the British Museum, at the age of +twenty-six receiving the position of translator to the Board of Trade. +Gosse is a good example of the cultivated man of letters who fitted +himself thoroughly for his profession, though lacking the formal scholastic +drill of the university.</p> + +<p>He began as a very young man to write for the leading English +periodicals, contributing papers and occasional poems to the Saturday +Review, Academy, and Cornhill Magazine, and soon gaining critical +recognition. In 1872 and 1874 he traveled in Scandinavia and Holland, +making literary studies which bore fruit in one of his best critical +works. He made his literary bow when twenty-one with the +volume 'Madrigals, Songs, and Sonnets' (1870), which was well received, +winning praise from Tennyson. His essential qualities as a +verse-writer appear in it: elegance and care of workmanship, close +study of nature, felicity in phrasing, and a marked tendency to draw +on literary culture for subject and reference. Other works of poetry, +'On Viol and Flute' (1873), 'New Poems' (1879), 'Firdausi in Exile' +(1885), 'In Russet and Gold' (1894), with the dramas 'King Erik' +(1876) and 'The Unknown Lover' (1878), show an increasingly firm +technique and a broadening of outlook, with some loss of the happy +singing quality which characterized the first volume. Gosse as a poet +may be described as a lyrist with attractive descriptive powers. Together +with his fellow poets Lang and Dobson, he revived in English +verse the old French metrical forms, such as the roundel, triolet, and +ballade, and he has been very receptive to the new in literary form +and thought, while keeping a firm grip on the classic models.</p> + +<p>As an essayist, Gosse is one of the most accomplished and agreeable +of modern English writers; he has comprehensive culture and +catholic sympathy, and commands a picturesque style, graceful and +rich without being florid. His 'Studies in the Literature of Northern +Europe' (1879) introduced Ibsen and other little-known foreign writers +to British readers.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 6566]</a></span></p> + +<p>Gosse has been a thorough student of English literature prior to +the nineteenth century, and has made a specialty of the literary history +of the eighteenth century, his series of books in this field including—'Seventeenth-Century +Studies' (1883), 'From Shakespeare to +Pope' (1885), 'The Literature of the Eighteenth Century' (1889), +'The Jacobean Poets' (1894), to which may be added the volume of +contemporaneous studies 'Critical Kit-Kats' (1896). Some of these +books are based on the lectures delivered by Gosse as Clark Lecturer +at Trinity College, Cambridge. He has also written biographies of +Sir Walter Raleigh and Congreve, and his 'Life of Thomas Gray' +(1882) and 'Works of Thomas Gray' (1884) comprise the best edition +and setting-forth of that poet. In such labors as that of the editing +of Heinemann's 'International Library,' his influence has been salutary +in the popularization of the best literature of the world. His +interest in Ibsen led him to translate, in collaboration with William +Archer, the dramatic critic of London, the Norwegian's play 'The +Master Builder.'</p> + +<p>Edmund Gosse, as editor, translator, critic, and poet, has done +varied and excellent work. Sensitive to many literatures, and to good +literature everywhere, he has remained stanchly English in spirit, and +has combined scholarship with popular qualities of presentation. He +has thus contributed not a little to the furtherance of literature in +England.</p> + + +<div class="blockquot"><p>[The poems are all taken from 'On Viol and Flute,' published by Henry Holt +& Co., New York.]</p></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="FEBRUARY_IN_ROME" id="FEBRUARY_IN_ROME"></a>FEBRUARY IN ROME</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When Roman fields are red with cyclamen,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And in the palace gardens you may find,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Under great leaves and sheltering briony-bind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clusters of cream-white violets, oh then<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ruined city of immortal men<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Must smile, a little to her fate resigned,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And through her corridors the slow warm wind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gush harmonies beyond a mortal ken.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such soft favonian airs upon a flute,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Such shadowy censers burning live perfume,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Shall lead the mystic city to her tomb;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor flowerless springs, nor autumns without fruit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor summer mornings when the winds are mute,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Trouble her soul till Rome be no more Rome.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 6567]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="DESIDERIUM" id="DESIDERIUM"></a>DESIDERIUM</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sit there for ever, dear, and lean<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In marble as in fleeting flesh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above the tall gray reeds that screen<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The river when the breeze is fresh;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For ever let the morning light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stream down that forehead broad and white,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And round that cheek for my delight.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Already that flushed moment grows<br /></span> +<span class="i1">So dark, so distant: through the ranks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of scented reed the river flows,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Still murmuring to its willowy banks;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But we can never hope to share<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Again that rapture fond and rare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unless you turn immortal there.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There is no other way to hold<br /></span> +<span class="i1">These webs of mingled joy and pain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like gossamer their threads enfold<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The journeying heart without a strain,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then break, and pass in cloud or dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And while the ecstatic soul goes through,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are withered in the parching blue.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hold, Time, a little while thy glass.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And Youth, fold up those peacock wings!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More rapture fills the years that pass<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Than any hope the future brings;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some for to-morrow rashly pray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And some desire to hold to-day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I am sick for yesterday.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Since yesterday the hills were blue<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That shall be gray for evermore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the fair sunset was shot through<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With color never seen before!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tyrannic Love smiled yesterday,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lost the terrors of his sway,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But is a god again to-day.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah, who will give us back the past?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Ah woe, that youth should love to be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like this swift Thames that speeds so fast,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And is so fain to find the sea,—<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 6568]</a></span><span class="i0">That leaves this maze of shadow and sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These creeks down which blown blossoms creep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For breakers of the homeless deep.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then sit for ever, dear, in stone,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As when you turned with half a smile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I will haunt this islet lone,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And with a dream my tears beguile;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in my reverie forget<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That stars and suns were made to set;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That love grows cold, or eyes are wet.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="LYING_IN_THE_GRASS" id="LYING_IN_THE_GRASS"></a>LYING IN THE GRASS</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Between two golden tufts of summer grass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see the world through hot air as through glass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And by my face sweet lights and colors pass.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Before me dark against the fading sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I watch three mowers mowing, as I lie:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With brawny arms they sweep in harmony.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Brown English faces by the sun burnt red,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rich glowing color on bare throat and head,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart would leap to watch them, were I dead!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And in my strong young living as I lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I seem to move with them in harmony,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A fourth is mowing, and the fourth am I.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The music of the scythes that glide and leap,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The young men whistling as their great arms sweep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the perfume and sweet sense of sleep,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The weary butterflies that droop their wings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dreamy nightingale that hardly sings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the lassitude of happy things,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Is mingling with the warm and pulsing blood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That gushes through my veins a languid flood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And feeds my spirit as the sap a bud.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Behind the mowers, on the amber air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A dark-green beech wood rises, still and fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A white path winding up it like a stair.<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 6569]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And see that girl, with pitcher on her head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And clean white apron on her gown of red,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her evensong of love is but half said:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She waits the youngest mower. Now he goes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her cheeks are redder than a wild blush-rose;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They climb up where the deepest shadows close.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But though they pass, and vanish, I am there.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I watch his rough hands meet beneath her hair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their broken speech sounds sweet to me like prayer.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah! now the rosy children come to play,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And romp and struggle with the new-mown hay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their clear, high voices sound from far away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They know so little why the world is sad;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They dig themselves warm graves, and yet are glad;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their muffled screams and laughter make me mad!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I long to go and play among them there;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unseen, like wind, to take them by the hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gently make their rosy cheeks more fair.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The happy children! full of frank surprise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sudden whims and innocent ecstasies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What Godhead sparkles from their liquid eyes!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No wonder round those urns of mingled clays<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Tuscan potters fashioned in old days,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And colored like the torrid earth ablaze,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We find the little gods and Loves portrayed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through ancient forests wandering undismayed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fluting hymns of pleasure unafraid.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They knew, as I do now, what keen delight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A strong man feels to watch the tender flight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of little children playing in his sight.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I do not hunger for a well-stored mind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I only wish to live my life, and find<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart in unison with all mankind.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My life is like the single dewy star<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That trembles on the horizon's primrose bar,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A microcosm where all things living are.<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[Pg 6570]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And if, among the noiseless grasses, Death<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should come behind and take away my breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I should not rise as one who sorroweth:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For I should pass, but all the world would be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Full of desire and young delight and glee,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And why should men be sad through loss of me?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The light is flying: in the silver blue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The young moon shines from her bright window through:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mowers are all gone, and I go too.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[Pg 6571]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="RUDOLF_VON_GOTTSCHALL" id="RUDOLF_VON_GOTTSCHALL"></a>RUDOLF VON GOTTSCHALL</h2> + +<h4>(1823-)</h4> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 90px;"> +<img src="images/capr.png" width="90" height="90" alt="R" title="R" /> +</div><p class="dropcap">udolf Von Gottschall was born in Breslau, September 30th, +1823. He was the son of a Prussian artillery officer, and as a +lad gave early evidence of extraordinary talent. His father +was transferred to the Rhine, and young Gottschall was sent successively +to the gymnasiums of Mainz and Coblenz. Even in his school +days, and before he entered the university, he had through his cleverness +attained a certain degree of eminence. His career at the +University of Königsberg, whither he went to pursue the study of +jurisprudence, was interrupted by the results attendant upon a youthful +ebullition of the spirit of freedom. His sympathy with the revolutionary +element was too boldly expressed, +and when in 1842 he published 'Lieder der +Gegenwart' (Songs of the Present), he found +it necessary to leave the university in order +to avert impending consequences. In the +following year he published 'Censurflüchtlinge' +(Fugitives from the Censor), a poem +of a kind not in the least likely to conciliate +the authorities. He remained for a +time with Count Reichenbach in Silesia, and +then went to Berlin, where he was allowed +to complete his studies. He was however +refused the privilege of becoming a university +docent, although he had regularly taken +his degree of <i>Dr. Juris</i>.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 170px;"> +<img src="images/gottschall.png" width="170" height="211" alt="R. von Gottschall" title="R. von Gottschall" /> +<span class="caption"><span class="smcap">R. von Gottschall</span></span> +</div> + +<p>He now devoted himself wholly to poetry and general literature. +For a while he held the position of stage manager in the theatre of +Königsberg, and during this period produced the dramas 'Der Blinde +von Alcalá' (The Blind Man of Alcalá: 1846), and 'Lord Byron in +Italien' (Lord Byron in Italy: 1848). After leaving Königsberg he +frequently changed his residence, living in Hamburg and Breslau, and +later in Posen, where in 1852 he was editor of a newspaper. In 1853 +he went to Italy, and after his return he settled in Leipzig. Here +he definitely established himself, and undertook the editing of Blätter +für Litterarische Unterhaltung (Leaves for Literary Amusement), and +also of the monthly periodical Unsere Zeit (Our Time). He wrote +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[Pg 6572]</a></span> +profusely, and exerted an appreciable influence upon contemporary +literature. He was ennobled by the Emperor in 1877.</p> + +<p>As a poet and man of letters, Gottschall possesses unusual gifts, +and is a writer of most extraordinary activity. His fecundity is astonishing, +and the amount of his published work fills many volumes. His +versatility is no less remarkable than his productiveness. Dramatist +and critic, novelist and poet,—in all his various fields he is never +mediocre. Chief among his dramatic works are the tragedies 'Katharina +Howard'; 'King Carl XII.'; 'Bernhard of Weimar'; 'Amy Robsart'; +'Arabella Stuart'; and the excellent comedy 'Pitt and Fox.' +Of narrative poems the best known are 'Die Göttin, ein Hohes Lied +vom Weibe' (The Goddess, a Song of Praise of Woman), 1852; 'Carlo +Zeno,' 1854; and 'Sebastopol,' 1856.</p> + +<p>He has published numerous volumes of verses which take a worthy +rank in the poetry of the time. His first 'Gedichte' (Poems) appeared +in 1849; 'Neue Gedichte' (New Poems) in 1858; 'Kriegslieder'(War +Songs) in 1870; and 'Janus' and 'Kriegs und Friedens Gedichte' +(Poems of War and Peace) in 1873. In his novels he is no less successful, +and of these may be mentioned—'Im Banne des Schwarzen +Adlers' (In the Ban of the Black Eagle: 1876); 'Welke Blätter' (Withered +Leaves: 1878); and 'Das Goldene Kalb' (The Golden Calf: 1880).</p> + +<p>It is however chiefly as critic that his power has been most widely +exerted, and prominent among the noteworthy productions of later +years stand his admirable 'Porträts und Studien' (Portraits and Studies: +1870-71); and 'Die Deutsche Nationallitteratur in der Ersten +Hälfte des 19. Jahrhunderts' (The German National Literature in the +First Half of the Nineteenth Century: 1855), continued to the present +time in 1892, when the whole appeared as 'The German National +Literature of the Nineteenth Century.'</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="HEINRICH_HEINE" id="HEINRICH_HEINE"></a>HEINRICH HEINE</h3> + +<h4>From 'Portraits and Studies'</h4> + +<p>About no recent poet has so much been said and sung as about +Heinrich Heine. The youngest writer, who for the first +time tries his pen, does not neglect to sketch with uncertain +outlines the portrait of this poet; and the oldest sour-tempered +professor of literature, who turns his back upon the efforts of +the present with the most distinguished disapproval, lets fall on +the picture a few rays of light, in order to prove the degeneration +of modern literature in the Mephistophelean features of this +its chief. Heine's songs are everywhere at home. They are to +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[Pg 6573]</a></span> +be found upon the music rack of the piano, in the school-books, +in the slender libraries of minor officers and young clerks. However +difficult it may be to compile an <i>editio castigata</i> of his poems, +every age, every generation has selected from among them that +which has delighted it. Citations from Heine, winged words in +verse and prose, buzz through the air of the century like a swarm +of insects: splendid butterflies with gayly glistening wings, beautiful +day moths and ghostly night moths, tormenting gnats, and +bees armed with evil stings. Heine's works are canonical books +for the intellectual, who season their judgments with citations +from this poet, model their conversation on his style, interpret +him, expand the germ cell of his wit to a whole fabric of clever +developments. Even if he is not a companion on the way through +life, like great German poets, and smaller Brahmins who for every +day of our house-and-life calendar give us an aphorism on the +road, there are nevertheless, in the lives of most modern men, +moods with which Heine's verse harmonize with wondrous sympathy; +moments in which the intimacy with this poet is greater +than the friendship, even if this be of longer duration, with our +classic poets.</p> + +<p>It is apparently idle to attempt to say anything new of so +much discussed a singer of modern times, since testimony favorable +and unfavorable has been drained to exhaustion by friend +and foe. Who does not know Heine,—or rather, who does +not believe that he knows him? for, as is immediately to be +added, acquaintance with this poet extends really only to a few +of his songs, and to the complete picture which is delivered +over ready-made from one history of literature into another. +Nothing, however, is more perilous and more fatal than literary +tradition! Not merely decrees and laws pass along by inheritance, +like a constitutional infirmity, but literary judgments too. +They form at last a subject of instruction like any other; a dead +piece of furniture in the spiritual housekeeping, which, like everything +that has been learned, is set as completed to one side. +We know enough of this sort of fixed pictures, which at last pass +along onward as the fixed ideas of a whole epoch, until a later +unprejudiced investigation dissolves this rigid-grown wisdom, sets +it to flowing, and forms out of a new mixture of its elements a +new and more truthful portrait.</p> + +<p>It is not to be affirmed however that Heine's picture, as it +stands fixed and finished in the literature and the opinion of the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[Pg 6574]</a></span> +present, is mistaken and withdrawn. It is dead, like every picture; +there is lacking the living, changing play of features. We +have of Heine only one picture before us; of our great poets +several. Goethe in his "storm and stress," in Frankfurt, Strassburg, +and Wetzlar,—the ardent lover of a Friedrike of Sesenheim, +the handsome, joyous youth, is different in our minds +from the stiff and formal Weimar minister; the youthful Apollo +different from the Olympic Jupiter. There lies a young development +between, that we feel and are curious to know. It is similar +with Schiller. The poet of the 'Robbers' with its motto <i>In +tyrannos</i>, the fugitive from the military school; and the Jena professor, +the Weimar court councilor who wrote 'The Homage of +the Arts,'—are two different portraits.</p> + +<p>But Heine is to our view always the same, always the representative +of humor with "a laughing tear" in his escutcheon, +always the poetic anomaly, coquetting with his pain and scoffing +it away. Young or old, well or ill, we do not know him different.</p> + +<p>And yet this poet too had a development, upon which at +different times different influences worked....</p> + +<p>The first epoch in this course of development may be called +the "youthful"; the 'Travel Pictures' and the lyrics contained +in it form its brilliant conclusion. This is no storm-and-stress +period in the way that, as Schiller and Goethe passed through it, +completed works first issued under its clarifying influence. On +the contrary, it is characteristic of Heine that we have to thank +this youthful epoch for his best and most peculiarly national +poems. The wantonness and the sorrows of this youth, in their +piquant mixture, created these songs permeated by the breath of +original talent, whose physiognomy, more than all that follow +later, bears the mark of the kind and manner peculiar to Heine, +and which for a long time exercised in our literature through +a countless host of imitators an almost epidemic effect. But +these lyric pearls, which in their purity and their crystalline +polish are a lasting adornment of his poet's crown, and belong to +the lyric treasures of our national literature, were also gathered +in his first youthful epoch, when he still dived down into the +depths of life in the diving-bell of romanticism.</p> + +<p>Although Heinrich Heine asserted of himself that he belonged +to the "first men of the century," since he was born in the +middle of New Year's night, 1800, more exact investigation has +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[Pg 6575]</a></span> +nevertheless shown that truth is here sacrificed to a witticism. +Heine is still a child of the eighteenth century, by whose most +predominant thoughts his work too is influenced, and with whose +European coryphæus, Voltaire, he has an undeniable relationship. +He was born, as Strodtmann proves, on the 13th of December, +1799, in Düsseldorf, His father was a plain cloth-merchant; his +mother, of the family Von Geldern, the daughter of a physician +of repute. The opinion, however, that Heine was the fruit of a +Jewish-Christian marriage, is erroneous. The family Von Geldern +belonged to the orthodox Jewish confession. One of its early +members, according to family tradition, although he was a Jew, +had received the patent of nobility from one of the prince electors +of Jülich-Kleve-Berg, on account of a service accorded him. As, +moreover, Schiller's and Goethe's mothers worked upon their sons +an appreciable educational influence, so was this also the case with +Heine's mother, who is described as a pupil of Rousseau and an +adorer of Goethe's elegies, and thus reached far out beyond the +measure of the bourgeois conditions in which she lived....</p> + +<p>That which however worked upon his youthful spirit, upon his +whole poetical manner, was the French sovereignty in the Rhine-lands +at the time of his childhood and youth. The Grand Duchy +of Berg, to which Düsseldorf belonged, was ruled in the French +manner; a manner which, apart from the violent conscriptions, +when compared with the Roman imperial periwig style had great +advantages, and in particular granted to Jews complete equal +rights with Christians, since the revolutionary principle of equality +had outlived the destruction of freedom. Thus the Jews in +Düsseldorf in their greater part were French sympathizers, and +Heine's father too was an ardent adherent of the new régime. +This as a matter of course could not remain without influence +upon the son, so much the less as he had French instruction at +the lyceum. A vein of the lively French blood is unmistakable +in his works. It drew him later on to Paris, where he made the +martyr stations of his last years. And of all recent German +poets, Heinrich Heine is the best known in France, better known +even than our classic poets; for the French feel this vein of +related blood....</p> + +<p>From his youth springs, too, Heine's enthusiasm for the great +Napoleon, which however he has never transmitted to the successors +of the <i>idées Napoléoniennes</i>. The thirteen-year-old pupil +of the gymnasium saw the Emperor in the year 1811, and then +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[Pg 6576]</a></span> +again in May 1812; and later on in the 'Book Legrand' of the +'Travel Pictures' he strikes up the following dithyrambic, which, +as is always the case with Heine where the great Cæsar is concerned, +tones forth pure and full, with genuine poetic swing, +without those dissonances in which his inmost feelings often +flow. "What feelings came over me," he exclaims, "when I +saw him himself, with my own highly favored eyes, him himself, +Hosanna, the Emperor! It was in the avenue of the Court +garden in Düsseldorf. As I pushed myself through the gaping +people, I thought of his deeds and his battles, and my heart +beat the general march—and nevertheless, I thought at the same +time of the police regulation that no one under a penalty of five +thalers should ride through the middle of the avenue. And the +Emperor rode quietly through the middle of the avenue; no +policeman opposed him. Behind him, his suite rode proudly on +snorting horses and loaded with gold and jewels, the trumpets +sounded, and the people shouted with a thousand voices, 'Long +live the Emperor!'" To this enthusiasm for Napoleon, Heine +not long afterward gave a poetic setting in the ballad 'The Two +Grenadiers.'...</p> + +<p>The Napoleonic remembrances of his youth, which retained +that unfading freshness and enthusiasm that are wont to belong +to all youthful remembrances, were of vital influence upon Heine's +later position in literature; they formed a balance over against +the romantic tendency, and hindered him from being drawn into +it. Precisely in that epoch when the beautiful patriotism of the +Wars of Liberation went over into the weaker feeling of the +time of the restoration, and romanticism, grown over-devout, in +part abandoned itself to externals, in part became a centre of +reactionary efforts, Heine let this Napoleonic lightning play on +the sultry heavens of literature, in the most daring opposition to +the ruling disposition of the time and a school of poetry from +which he himself had proceeded; while he declared war upon its +followers. However greatly he imperiled his reputation as a +German patriot through these hosannas offered to the hereditary +enemy, just as little was it to be construed amiss that the remembrance +of historical achievements, and of those principles of +the Revolution which even the Napoleonic despotism must represent, +were a salutary ventilation in the miasmic atmosphere of +the continually decreasing circle which at that time described +German literature. In the prose of Heine, which like Béranger +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[Pg 6577]</a></span> +glorified Cæsar, slumbered the first germs of the political lyric, +which led again out of the moonlit magic realm of romanticism +into the sunny day of history.</p> + +<p>A hopeless youthful love for a charming Hamburg maiden +was the Muse of the Heine lyric, whose escutcheon has for a +symbol "the laughing tear." With the simplicity of Herodotus +the poet himself relates the fact, the experience, in the well-known +poem with the final strophe:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"It is an ancient story,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But still 'tis ever new:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To whomsoe'er it happens<br /></span> +<span class="i1">His heart is broken too."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>We comprehend from biographical facts the inner genesis of +the Heine lyric. Heine was in the position of Werther, but a +Werther was for the nineteenth century an anomaly; a lyric of +this sort in yellow nankeen breeches would have travestied itself. +The content of the range of thought, the circle of world-shaping +efforts, had so expanded itself since the French Revolution that +a complete dissolution into sentimental extravagance had become +an impossibility. The justification of the sentiment was not to +be denied; but it must not be regarded as the highest, as the +life-determining element. It needed a rectification which should +again rescue the freedom of the spirit. Humor alone could accomplish +Munchausen's feat, and draw itself by its own hair out of +the morass. Heine expressed his feelings with genuine warmth; +he formed them into drawn pictures and visions; but then he +placed himself on the defensive against them. He is the modern +Werther, who instead of loading his pistol with a ball, loads +it with humor. Artistic harmony suffered under this triumph of +spiritual freedom; but that which appeared in his imitators as +voluntary quibbling came from Heine of inner necessity. The +subject of his first songs is the necessary expression of a struggle +between feeling and spirit, between the often visionary dream life +of a sentiment and self-consciousness, soaring free out over the +world, which adjudged absorption in a single feeling as one-sided +and unjustified. Later on, to be sure, these subjects of youthful +inspiration became in Heine himself a satiric-humoristic manner, +which regarded as a model worked much evil in literature. In +addition to personal necessity through one's own experience, there +was for a genius such as Heine's also a literary necessity, which +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[Pg 6578]</a></span> +lay in the development of our literature in that epoch. It was +the Indian Summer of romanticism, whose cobwebs at this time +flew over the stubble of our poetry. The vigorous onset of the +lyricists of the Wars of Liberation had again grown lame; people +reveled in the album sentiments of Tiedge and Mahlmann; the +spectres of Amadeus Hoffmann and the lovely high-born maidens +of knight Fouqué were regarded then as the noblest creations of +German fantasy. Less chosen spirits, that is to say, the entire +great reading public of the German nation, which ever felt toward +its immortals a certain aversion, refreshed itself with the lukewarm +water of the poetry of Clauren, from out of which, instead +of the Venus Anadyomene, appear a Mimili and other maiden +forms, pretty, but drawn with a stuffed-out plasticism. On the +stage reigned the "fate tragedies" upon whose lyre the strings +were wont to break even in the first scene, and whose ghosts +slipped silently over all the German boards. In a word, spirits +controlled the poetry of the time more than spirit.</p> + +<p>Heine however was a genuine knight of the spirit, and even +if he conjured up his lyric spectres, he demanded no serious +belief in them—they were dissolving pictures of mist; and if +he followed his overflowing feelings, the mawkish sentiments of +romanticism occurred to him and disgusted him with the extravagant +expression of his love pain, and he mocked himself, the +time, and the literature,—dissolved the sweet accords in glaring +dissonances, so that they should not be in tune with the sentimental +street songs of the poets of the day. In these outer and +inner reasons lie the justification and the success of the lyric +poetry of Heine. It designates an act of self-consciousness of +the German spirit, which courageously lifts itself up out of idle +love complainings and fantastic dream life, and at the same time +mocks them both. An original talent like Heine's was needed to +give to the derided sentiment such a transporting magic, to the +derision itself such an Attic grace, that the sphinx of his poetry, +with the beautiful face and the rending claws, always produced +the impression of a work of art. The signification in literary +history of these songs of Heine is not to be underestimated. +They indicate the dissolution of romanticism, and with them +begins the era of modern German poetry.</p> + +<p class="trans">Translated for 'A Library of the World's Best Literature,' by William +H. Carpenter</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[Pg 6579]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="JOHN_GOWER" id="JOHN_GOWER"></a>JOHN GOWER</h2> + +<h4>(1325?-1408)</h4> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 90px;"> +<img src="images/caps.png" width="90" height="89" alt="S" title="S" /> +</div><p class="dropcap">ince Caxton, the first printer of 'Confessio Amantis' (The +Confession of a Lover), described Gower as a "squyer borne +in Walys in the tyme of Kyng Richard the second," there +has been a diversity of opinion about his birthplace, and he has been +classed variously with prosperous Gowers until of late, when the +county assigned to him is Kent. His birth-year is placed approximately +at 1325. We know nothing of his early life and education. +It has been guessed that he went to Oxford, +and afterwards traveled in the troubled +kingdom of France. Such a course might +have been followed by a man of his estate. +He had means, for English property records +(in this instance the rolls of Chancery, the +parchment foundation of English society) +still preserve deeds of his holdings in Kent +and Essex and elsewhere.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 170px;"> +<img src="images/gower.png" width="170" height="200" alt="John Gower" title="John Gower" /> +<span class="caption"><span class="smcap">John Gower</span></span> +</div> + +<p>His life lay along with that of Chaucer's, +in the time when Edward III. and his son +the Black Prince were carrying war into +France, and the English Parliament were +taking pay in plain speaking for what they +granted in supplies, and wresting at the +same time promises of reform from the royal hand. But Gower and +Chaucer were not only contemporaries: they were of like pursuit, +tastes, and residence; they were friends; and when Chaucer under +Richard II., the grandson and successor of Edward, went to France +upon the mission of which Froissart speaks, he named John Gower as +one of his two attorneys while he should be away. Notice of Gower's +marriage to Agnes Groundolf late in life—in 1397—is still preserved. +Three years after this he became blind,—it was the year 1400, in +which Chaucer died,—and in 1408 he died.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"The infirm poet," says Morley, "spent the evening of his life at St. Mary +Overies [St. Mary-over-the-River], in retirement from all worldly affairs except +pious and liberal support of the advancing building works in the priory, and +in the church now known as St. Saviour's [Southwark], to which he bequeathed +his body. His will, made not long before death, bequeathed his soul to God, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[Pg 6580]</a></span> +his body to be buried in St. Mary Overies. The poet bequeathed also 13<i>s.</i> 4<i>d.</i> +to each of the four parish churches of Southwark for ornaments and lights, +besides 6<i>s.</i> 8<i>d.</i> for prayers to each of their curates. It is not less characteristic +that he left also 40<i>s.</i> for prayers to the master of St. Thomas's Hospital, +and, still for prayers, 6<i>s.</i> 8<i>d.</i> to each of its priests, 3<i>s.</i> 4<i>d.</i> to each Sister in +the hospital, twenty pence to each nurse of the infirm there, and to each of +the infirm twelve pence. There were similar bequests to St. Thomas Elsing +Spital, a priory and hospital that stood where now stands Sion College. St. +Thomas Elsing Spital, founded in 1329 by William Elsing, was especially +commended to the sympathies of the blind old poet, as it consisted of a college +for a warden, four priests, and two clerks, who had care of one hundred +old, blind, and poor persons of both sexes, preference being given to blind, +paralytic, and disabled priests. Like legacies were bequeathed also to Bedlam-without-Bishopsgate, +and to St. Mary's Hospital, Westminster. Also there +were bequests of ten shillings to each of the leper-nurses. Two robes (one of +white silk, the other of blue baudekin,—a costly stuff with web of gold and +woof of silk), also a new dish and chalice, and a new missal, were bequeathed +to the perpetual service of the altar of the chapel of St. John the Baptist, in +which his body was to be buried. To the prior and convent he left a great +book, a 'Martyrology,' which had been composed and written for them at his +expense. To his wife Agnes he left a hundred pounds, three cups, one coverlet, +two salt-cellars, and a dozen silver spoons; also all his beds and chests, +with the furnishings of hall, pantry, and kitchen; also a chalice and robe for +the altar of the chapel of their house; and she was to have for life all rents +due to him from his manors of Southwell (in Nottingham) and Moulton (in +Suffolk)."</p></div> + +<p>His wife was one of his executors. The will is still preserved at +Lambeth Palace.</p> + +<p>Gower's tomb and monument may also still be seen at St. Saviour's, +where the description Berthelet gave of them in 1532 is, aside from +the deadening of the paintings, true:—"Somewhat after the olde +ffashion he lyeth ryght sumptuously buryed, with a garland on his +head, in token that he in his lyfe dayes flouryshed freshely in literature +and science." The head of his stone effigy lies upon three +volumes representing Gower's three great works; the hair falls in long +curls; the robe is closely buttoned to the feet, which rest upon a +lion, and the neck is encircled with a collar, from which a chain held +a small swan, the badge of Henry IV. "Besyde on the wall where +as he lyeth," continues Berthelet, "there be peynted three virgins, +with crownes on theyr heades; one of the which is written <i>Charitie</i>, +and she holdeth this devise in her hande:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'En toy qui fitz de Dieu le Pere<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sauve soit que gist souz cest piere.'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">(In thee, who art Son of God the Father,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be he saved who lieth under this stone.)<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[Pg 6581]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The second is wrytten <i>Mercye</i>, which holdeth in her hande this +devise:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'O bone Jesu fait ta mercy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Al alme dont le corps gist icy.'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">(O good Jesus, grant thy mercy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the soul whose body lies here.)<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"The thyrde of them is wrytten <i>Pity</i>, which holdeth in her hand +this devise:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Pur ta pite, Jesu regarde,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Et met cest alme en sauve garde.'"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">(For thy pity, Jesus, see;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And take this soul in thy safe guard.)<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The monument was repaired in 1615, 1764, and 1830.</p> + +<p>The three works which pillow the head of the effigy indicate +Gower's 'Speculum Meditantis' (The Looking-Glass of One Meditating), +which the poet wrote in French; the 'Vox Clamantis' (The Voice +of One Crying), in Latin; and the 'Confessio Amantis,' in English. It +should be remembered in noting this mixture of tongues, that in +Gower's early life the English had no national speech. The court, +Parliament, nobles, and the courts of law used French; the Church +held its service in Latin; while the inhabitants of Anglo-Saxon blood +clung to the language of their fathers, which they had modified by +additions from the Norman tongue. It was not until 1362 that Parliament +was opened by a speech in English. "There is," says Dr. Pauli, +"no better illustration of the singular transition to the English language +than a short enumeration and description of Gower's writings." +Of the 'Speculum Meditantis,' a treatise in ten books on the duties +of married life, no copy is known to exist. The 'Vox Clamantis' +was the voice of the poet, singing in Latin elegiac of the terrible +evils which led to the rise of the commons and their march to London +under Wat Tyler and Jack Straw in 1381. It is doubtless a true +picture of the excesses and miseries of the day. The remedy, the +poet says, is in reform—right living and love of England. Simony +in the prelates, avarice and drunkenness in the libidinous priests, +wealth and luxury in the mendicant orders, miscarrying of justice in +the courts, enrichment of individuals by excessive taxes,—these are +the subjects of the voice crying in the wilderness.</p> + +<p>Gower's greatest work, however, is the 'Confessio Amantis.' In +form it is a dialogue between a lover and his confessor, who is a +priest of Venus. In substance it is a setting-forth, with moralizings +which are at times touching and elevated, of one hundred and +twelve different stories, from sources so different as the Bible, Ovid, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[Pg 6582]</a></span> +Josephus, the 'Gesta Romanorum,' Valerius Maximus, Statius, Boccaccio, +etc. Thirty thousand eight-syllabled rhymed lines make up +the work. There are different versions. The first was dedicated to +Richard II., and the second to his successor, Henry of Lancaster. +Besides these large works, a number of French ballades, and also +English and Latin short poems, are preserved. "They have real and +intrinsic merit," says Todd: "they are tender, pathetic, and poetical, +and place our old poet Gower in a more advantageous point of +view than that in which he has heretofore been usually seen."</p> + +<p>Estimates of Gower's writings are various; but even his most hostile +judges admit the pertinence of the epithet with which Chaucer +hails him in his dedication of 'Troilus and Creseide':—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O morall Gower, this bookè I direct<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To thee and to the philosophicall Strode,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To vouchsafè there need is to correct<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of your benignities and zealès good."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Then Skelton the laureate, in his long song upon the death of +Philip Sparrow (which recalls the exquisite gem of Catullus in a like +threnody), takes occasion to say:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Gower's englysshè is olde,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And of no valúe is tolde;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His mattér is worth gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And worthy to be enrold."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And again:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Gower that first garnishèd our English rude."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Old Puttenham also bears this testimony:—"But of them all [the +English poets] particularly this is myne opinion, that Chaucer, with +Gower, Lidgate, and Harding, for their antiquitie ought to have the +first place."</p> + +<p>Taine dismisses him with little more than a fillip, and Lowell, +while discoursing appreciatively on Chaucer, says:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Gower has positively raised tediousness to the precision of science; he has +made dullness an heirloom for the students of our literary history. As you +slip to and fro on the frozen levels of his verse, which give no foothold to the +mind; as your nervous ear awaits the inevitable recurrence of his rhyme, regularly +pertinacious as the tick of an eight-day clock, and reminding you of +Wordsworth's</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Once more the ass did lengthen out<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hard dry seesaw of his horrible bray,'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[Pg 6583]</a></span></p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>you learn to dread, almost to respect, the powers of this indefatigable man. +He is the undertaker of the fair mediæval legend, and his style has the hateful +gloss, the seemingly unnatural length, of a coffin."</p></div> + +<p>Yet hear Morley:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"To this day we hear among our living countrymen, as was to be heard +in Gower's time and long before, the voice passing from man to man, that in +spite of admixture with the thousand defects incident to human character, sustains +the keynote of our literature, and speaks from the soul of our history +the secret of our national success. It is the voice that expresses the persistent +instinct of the English mind to find out what is unjust among us and undo it, +to find out duty to be done and do it, as God's bidding.... In his own +Old English or Anglo-Saxon way he tries to put his soul into his work. Thus +in the 'Vox Clamantis' we have heard him asking that the soul of his book, +not its form, be looked to; and speaking the truest English in such sentences +as that 'the eye is blind and the ear deaf, that convey nothing down to the +heart's depth; and the heart that does not utter what it knows is as a live coal +under ashes. If I know little, there may be another whom that little will help.... +But to the man who believes in God, no power is unattainable if he +but rightly feels his work; he ever has enough, whom God increases.' This is +the old spirit of Cædmon and of Bede; in which are laid, while the earth lasts, +the strong foundations of our literature. It was the strength of such a temper +in him that made Gower strong. 'God knows,' he says again, 'my +wish is to be useful; that is the prayer that directs my labor.' And while he +thus touches the root of his country's philosophy, the form of his prayer—that +what he has written may be what he would wish it to be—is still a +thoroughly sound definition of good English writing. His prayer is that +there may be no word of untruth, and that 'each word may answer to the +thing it speaks of, pleasantly and fitly; that he may flatter in it no one, and +seek in it no praise above the praise of God.'"</p></div> + +<p>The part of Gower's writing here brought before the reader is the +quaintly told and charming story of Petronella, from 'Liber Primus' +of the 'Confessio.' It may be evidence that all the malediction upon +the poet above quoted is not deserved.</p> + +<p>The 'Confessio Amantis' has been edited and collated with the +best manuscripts by Dr. Reinhold Pauli (1857). The 'Vox Clamantis' +was printed for the first time in 1850, under the editorship of +H. O. Coxe and for the Roxburghe Club. The 'Balades and Other +Poems' are also included in the publication of the Roxburghe Club. +Other sources of information regarding Gower are 'Illustrations of +the Lives and Writings of Gower and Chaucer' by Henry J. Todd +(1810); Henry Morley's reviews in 'English Writers'; and various +short articles.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[Pg 6584]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="PETRONELLA" id="PETRONELLA"></a>PETRONELLA</h3> + +<h4>From the 'Confessio Amantis'</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A king whilom was yonge and wise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The which set of his wit great prise.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of depe ymaginations<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And straunge interpretations,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Problemes and demaundès eke<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His wisedom was to finde and seke;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherof he wolde in sondry wise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Opposen hem that weren wise.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But none of hem it mightè bere<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon his word to yive answére;<a name="FNanchor_1_7" id="FNanchor_1_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_7" class="fnanchor">[1]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out taken one, which was a knight:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To him was every thing so light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That also sone as he hem herde<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The kingès wordès he answerde,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What thing the king him axè wolde,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whereof anone the trouth he tolde.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The king somdele had an envie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thought he wolde his wittès plie<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To setè some conclusion,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Which shuldè be confusion<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unto this knight, so that the name<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And of wisdom the highè fame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Towárd him selfe he woldè winne.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thus of all his wit withinne<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This king began to studie and muse<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What straungè matér he might use<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The knightès wittès to confounde;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And atè last he hath it founde,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And for the knight anon he sente,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That he shall tellè what he mente.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon three points stood the matére,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of questions as thou shaltè here.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The firstè pointè of all thre<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was this: what thing in his degre<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all this world hath nedè lest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet men helpe it allthermest.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The second is: what moste is worth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And of costáge is lest put forth.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[Pg 6585]</a></span><span class="i1">The thrid is: which is of most cost,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lest is worth, and goth to lost.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The king these thre demaundès axeth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the knight this law he taxeth:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That he shall gone, and comen ayein<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The thriddè weke, and tell him pleine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To every point, what it amounteth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if so be that he miscounteth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To make in his answére a faile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There shall none other thinge availe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The king saith, but he shall be dede<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lese his goodès and his hede.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This knight was sory of this thinge,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wolde excuse him to the kinge;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But he ne wolde him nought forbere,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thus the knight of his answére<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Goth home to take avisement.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But after his entendement<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The more he cast his wit about,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The more he stant thereof in doubte.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tho<a name="FNanchor_2_8" id="FNanchor_2_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_8" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> wist he well the kingès herte,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That he the deth ne shulde asterte,<a name="FNanchor_3_9" id="FNanchor_3_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_9" class="fnanchor">[3]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And suche a sorroe to him hath take<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That gladship he hath all forsake.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He thought first upon his life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And after that upon his wife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon his children eke also,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of whichè he had doughteres two.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The yongest of hem had of age<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fourtene yere, and of visage<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She was right faire, and of stature<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lich to an hevenlich figure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And of manér and goodly speche,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though men wolde all landès seche,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They shulden nought have founde her like.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She sigh<a name="FNanchor_4_10" id="FNanchor_4_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_10" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> her fader sorroe and sike,<a name="FNanchor_5_11" id="FNanchor_5_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_11" class="fnanchor">[5]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wist nought the causè why.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So cam she to him prively,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that was wher he made his mone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within a gardin all him one.<a name="FNanchor_6_12" id="FNanchor_6_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_12" class="fnanchor">[6]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon her knees she gan down falle<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With humble herte, and to him calle<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[Pg 6586]</a></span><span class="i0">And saidè:—"O good fader dere,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why makè ye thus hevy chere,<a name="FNanchor_7_13" id="FNanchor_7_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_13" class="fnanchor">[7]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I wot nothinge how it is?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And well ye knowè, fader, this,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What ádventurè that you felle<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye might it saufly to me telle;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I have oftè herd you saide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That ye such truste have on me laide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That to my suster ne to my brother<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In all this worlde ne to none other<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye durstè telle a privete<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So well, my fader, as to me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forthy,<a name="FNanchor_8_14" id="FNanchor_8_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_14" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> my fader, I you praie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ne casteth nought that hert<a name="FNanchor_9_15" id="FNanchor_9_15"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_15" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> awaie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I am she that woldè kepe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your honour." And with that to wepe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her eye may nought be forbore;<a name="FNanchor_10_16" id="FNanchor_10_16"></a><a href="#Footnote_10_16" class="fnanchor">[10]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">She wisheth for to ben unbore,<a name="FNanchor_11_17" id="FNanchor_11_17"></a><a href="#Footnote_11_17" class="fnanchor">[11]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Er<a name="FNanchor_12_18" id="FNanchor_12_18"></a><a href="#Footnote_12_18" class="fnanchor">[12]</a> that her fader so mistriste<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To tellen her of that he wiste.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ever among mercy<a name="FNanchor_13_19" id="FNanchor_13_19"></a><a href="#Footnote_13_19" class="fnanchor">[13]</a> she cride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That he ne shulde his counseil hide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From her, that so wolde him good<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And was so nigh flesshe and blood.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So that with weping, atè laste<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His chere upon his childe he caste,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sorroefully to that she praide<a name="FNanchor_14_20" id="FNanchor_14_20"></a><a href="#Footnote_14_20" class="fnanchor">[14]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">He tolde his tale, and thus he saide:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"The sorroe, doughter, which I make<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is nought all only for my sake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But for the bothe and for you alle.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For suche a chaunce is me befalle,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I shall er this thriddè day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lese all that ever I lesè may,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My life and all my good therto.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Therefore it is I sorroe so."<br /></span> +<span class="i1">"What is the cause, alas," quod she,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"My fader, that ye shulden be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dede and destruied in suche a wise?"<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[Pg 6587]</a></span><span class="i1">And he began the points devise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which as the king tolde him by mouthe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And said her pleinly, that he couthe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Answeren to no point of this.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And she, that hereth howe it is,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her counseil yaf<a name="FNanchor_15_21" id="FNanchor_15_21"></a><a href="#Footnote_15_21" class="fnanchor">[15]</a> and saide tho<a name="FNanchor_16_22" id="FNanchor_16_22"></a><a href="#Footnote_16_22" class="fnanchor">[16]</a>:—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">"My fader, sithen it is so,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That ye can se none other weie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But that ye must nedès deie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wolde pray you of o<a name="FNanchor_17_23" id="FNanchor_17_23"></a><a href="#Footnote_17_23" class="fnanchor">[17]</a> thinge,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let me go with you to the kinge,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ye shall make him understonde,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How ye, my wittès for to fonde,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have laid your answere upon me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And telleth him in such degre<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon my worde ye wol abide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To life or deth, what so betide.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For yet perchaunce I may purchace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With some good word the kingès grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your life and eke your good to save.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For oftè shall a woman have<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thing, whiche a man may nought areche."<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The fader herd his doughters speche,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thought there was no reson in,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sigh his ownè life to winne<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He couthè done himself no cure.<a name="FNanchor_18_24" id="FNanchor_18_24"></a><a href="#Footnote_18_24" class="fnanchor">[18]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">So better him thought in àventure<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To put his life and all his good,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than in the manner as it stood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His life incertein for to lese.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thus thenkend he gan to chese<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To do the counseil of this maid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And toke the purpose which she said.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The day was comen, and forth they gone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unto the court they come anone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where as the kinge in his jugement<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was set and hath this knight assent.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Arraièd in her bestè wise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This maiden with her wordès wise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her fader leddè by the honde<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into the place,<a name="FNanchor_19_25" id="FNanchor_19_25"></a><a href="#Footnote_19_25" class="fnanchor">[19]</a> where he fonde<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[Pg 6588]</a></span><span class="i0">The king with other which he wolde;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to the king knelend he tolde<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As he enformèd was to-fore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And praith the king, that he therfore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His doughters wordès woldè take;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And saith, that he woll undertake<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon her wordès for to stonde.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tho was ther great merveile on honde,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That he, which was so wise a knight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His life upon so yonge a wight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Besettè wolde in jeopartie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And many it helden for folie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But at the lastè, netheles,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The king commaundeth ben in pees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to this maide he cast his chere,<a name="FNanchor_20_26" id="FNanchor_20_26"></a><a href="#Footnote_20_26" class="fnanchor">[20]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And saide he wolde her talè here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bad her speke; and she began:—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">"My legè lord, so as I can,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quod she, "the pointès which I herde,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They shull of reson ben answerde.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The first I understonde is this:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What thinge of all the worlde it is,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which men most helpe and hath lest nede.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My legè lord, this wolde I rede:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The erthe it is, which evermo<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With mannès labour is bego<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As well in winter as in maie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mannès honde doth what he may<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To helpe it forth and make it riche,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And forthy men it delve and diche,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And even it with strength of plough,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wher it hath of him self inough<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So that his nede is atè leste.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For every man, birdè, and beste<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of flour and gras and roote and rinde<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And every thing by way of kinde<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall sterve, and erthe it shall become<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As it was out of erthè nome,<a name="FNanchor_21_27" id="FNanchor_21_27"></a><a href="#Footnote_21_27" class="fnanchor">[21]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">It shall be therthe torne ayein.<a name="FNanchor_22_28" id="FNanchor_22_28"></a><a href="#Footnote_22_28" class="fnanchor">[22]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thus I may by reson sein<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That erthè is the most nedeles<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And most men helpe it netheles;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[Pg 6589]</a></span><span class="i0">So that, my lord, touchend of this<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have answerde how that it is.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That other point I understood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which most is worth, and most is good,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And costeth lest a man to kepe:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My lorde, if ye woll takè kepe,<a name="FNanchor_23_29" id="FNanchor_23_29"></a><a href="#Footnote_23_29" class="fnanchor">[23]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">I say it is humilitè,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through whichè the high Trinitè<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As for desertè of pure love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unto Mariè from above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of that he knewe her humble entente,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His ownè Sone adown he sente<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above all other, and her he chese<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For that vertu, which bodeth pees.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So that I may by reson calle<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Humilitè most worthe of alle,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lest it costeth to mainteine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In all the worlde, as it is seine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For who that hath humblesse on honde,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He bringeth no werres into londe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For he desireth for the best<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To setten every man in reste.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus with your highè reverence<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Me thenketh that this evidence<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As to this point is suffisaunt.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And touchend of the remenaunt,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which is the thridde of your axinges,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What lest is worth of allè thinges,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And costeth most, I telle it pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which may nought in the heven abide.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Lucifer with hem that felle<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bar pridè with him into helle.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There was pride of to grete cost<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whan he for pride hath heven lost;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And after that in Paradise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Adam for pridè lost his prise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In middel-erth. And eke also<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pride is the cause of allè wo,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That all the world ne may suffice<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To staunche of pridè the reprise.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pride is the heved<a name="FNanchor_24_30" id="FNanchor_24_30"></a><a href="#Footnote_24_30" class="fnanchor">[24]</a> of all sinne,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which wasteth all and may nought winne;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[Pg 6590]</a></span><span class="i0">Pride is of every mis<a name="FNanchor_25_31" id="FNanchor_25_31"></a><a href="#Footnote_25_31" class="fnanchor">[25]</a> the pricke<a name="FNanchor_26_32" id="FNanchor_26_32"></a><a href="#Footnote_26_32" class="fnanchor">[26]</a>;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pride is the worstè of all wicke,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And costeth most and lest is worth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In placè where he hath his forth.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thus have I said that I woll say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of min answére, and to you pray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My legè lorde, of your office,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That ye such grace and suche justice<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ordeignè for my fader here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That after this, whan men it here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The world therof may spekè good."<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The king, which reson understood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hath all herde how she hath said,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was inly glad, and so well paid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That all his wrath is over go.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he began to lokè tho<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon this maiden in the face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In which he found so mochel grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That all his prise on her he laide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In audience, and thus he saide:—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">"My fairè maidè, well the<a name="FNanchor_27_33" id="FNanchor_27_33"></a><a href="#Footnote_27_33" class="fnanchor">[27]</a> be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of thin answére, and eke of the<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Me liketh well, and as thou wilte,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Foryivè be thy faders gilte.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if thou were of such lignage,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That thou to me were of parage,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that thy fader were a pere,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As he is now a bachelere,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So siker as I have a life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou sholdest thannè be my wife.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But this I saiè netheles,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I woll shapè thin encrese;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What worldès good that thou wolt crave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are of my yift, and thou shalt have."<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And she the king with wordès wise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Knelende, thanketh in this wise:—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">"My legè lord, god mot you quite.<a name="FNanchor_28_34" id="FNanchor_28_34"></a><a href="#Footnote_28_34" class="fnanchor">[28]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">My fader here hath but a lite<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of warison,<a name="FNanchor_29_35" id="FNanchor_29_35"></a><a href="#Footnote_29_35" class="fnanchor">[29]</a> and that he wende<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had all be<a name="FNanchor_30_36" id="FNanchor_30_36"></a><a href="#Footnote_30_36" class="fnanchor">[30]</a> lost, but now amende<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He may well through you noble grace."<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[Pg 6591]</a></span><span class="i1">With that the king right in his place<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Anon forth in that freshè hete<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An erldome, which than of eschete<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was latè falle into his honde,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unto this knight with rent and londe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath yove, and with his chartre sesed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thus was all the noise appesed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This maiden, which sate on her knees<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To-fore the kingès charitees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Commendeth and saith evermore:—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">"My legè lord, right now to-fore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye saide, and it is of recorde,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That if my fader were a lorde<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pere unto these other grete,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye wolden for nought ellès lette,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I ne sholdè be your wife.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thus wote every worthy life<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A kingès worde mot nede be holde.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forthy my lord, if that ye wolde<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So great a charitè fulfille,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God wotè it were well my wille.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For he which was a bachelere,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My fader, is now made a pere;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So whan as ever that I cam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An erlès doughter nowe I am."<br /></span> +<span class="i1">This yongè king, which peisèd<a name="FNanchor_31_37" id="FNanchor_31_37"></a><a href="#Footnote_31_37" class="fnanchor">[31]</a> all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her beautè and her wit withall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As he, which was with lovè hente,<a name="FNanchor_32_38" id="FNanchor_32_38"></a><a href="#Footnote_32_38" class="fnanchor">[32]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Anone therto gaf his assente.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He might nought the place asterte,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That she nis lady of his herte.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So that he toke her to his wife<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To holdè, while that he hath life.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thus the king towárd his knight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Accordeth him, as it is right.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And over this good is to wite<a name="FNanchor_33_39" id="FNanchor_33_39"></a><a href="#Footnote_33_39" class="fnanchor">[33]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the cronique as it is write,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This noble kinge, of whom I tolde,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Spainè by tho daiès olde<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The kingdom had in governaunce,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And as the boke maketh remembraunce,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alphonsè was his propre name.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[Pg 6592]</a></span><span class="i0">The knight also, if I shall name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Danz Petro hight, and as men telle,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His doughter wisè Petronelle<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was clepèd, which was full of grace.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that was sene in thilkè place,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where she her fader out of tene<a name="FNanchor_34_40" id="FNanchor_34_40"></a><a href="#Footnote_34_40" class="fnanchor">[34]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath brought and made her selfe a quene,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of that she hath so well desclosed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The points whereof she was opposed.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_7" id="Footnote_1_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_7"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> No one could solve his puzzles.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_8" id="Footnote_2_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_8"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> For.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_9" id="Footnote_3_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_9"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> Escape.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_4_10" id="Footnote_4_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_10"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> Saw.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_5_11" id="Footnote_5_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_11"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> Sigh.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_6_12" id="Footnote_6_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_12"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> Own.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_7_13" id="Footnote_7_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_13"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> Care.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_8_14" id="Footnote_8_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_14"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> Therefore.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_9_15" id="Footnote_9_15"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9_15"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> Heart.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_10_16" id="Footnote_10_16"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10_16"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> Cannot endure it.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_11_17" id="Footnote_11_17"></a><a href="#FNanchor_11_17"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> Unborn.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_12_18" id="Footnote_12_18"></a><a href="#FNanchor_12_18"><span class="label">[12]</span></a> Ere.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_13_19" id="Footnote_13_19"></a><a href="#FNanchor_13_19"><span class="label">[13]</span></a> In the midst of pity (for him).</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_14_20" id="Footnote_14_20"></a><a href="#FNanchor_14_20"><span class="label">[14]</span></a> In answer to her prayer.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_15_21" id="Footnote_15_21"></a><a href="#FNanchor_15_21"><span class="label">[15]</span></a> Gave.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_16_22" id="Footnote_16_22"></a><a href="#FNanchor_16_22"><span class="label">[16]</span></a> Thus.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_17_23" id="Footnote_17_23"></a><a href="#FNanchor_17_23"><span class="label">[17]</span></a> One.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_18_24" id="Footnote_18_24"></a><a href="#FNanchor_18_24"><span class="label">[18]</span></a> Saw that he could do nothing to save his own life.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_19_25" id="Footnote_19_25"></a><a href="#FNanchor_19_25"><span class="label">[19]</span></a> Palace.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_20_26" id="Footnote_20_26"></a><a href="#FNanchor_20_26"><span class="label">[20]</span></a> Turned his attention.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_21_27" id="Footnote_21_27"></a><a href="#FNanchor_21_27"><span class="label">[21]</span></a> Taken.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_22_28" id="Footnote_22_28"></a><a href="#FNanchor_22_28"><span class="label">[22]</span></a> Shall turn thereto again.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_23_29" id="Footnote_23_29"></a><a href="#FNanchor_23_29"><span class="label">[23]</span></a> Heed.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_24_30" id="Footnote_24_30"></a><a href="#FNanchor_24_30"><span class="label">[24]</span></a> Head.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_25_31" id="Footnote_25_31"></a><a href="#FNanchor_25_31"><span class="label">[25]</span></a> Mischief.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_26_32" id="Footnote_26_32"></a><a href="#FNanchor_26_32"><span class="label">[26]</span></a> Core.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_27_33" id="Footnote_27_33"></a><a href="#FNanchor_27_33"><span class="label">[27]</span></a> Thee.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_28_34" id="Footnote_28_34"></a><a href="#FNanchor_28_34"><span class="label">[28]</span></a> May God requite you.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_29_35" id="Footnote_29_35"></a><a href="#FNanchor_29_35"><span class="label">[29]</span></a> Has had but little reward.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_30_36" id="Footnote_30_36"></a><a href="#FNanchor_30_36"><span class="label">[30]</span></a> Been.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_31_37" id="Footnote_31_37"></a><a href="#FNanchor_31_37"><span class="label">[31]</span></a> Poised—weighed.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_32_38" id="Footnote_32_38"></a><a href="#FNanchor_32_38"><span class="label">[32]</span></a> Seized.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_33_39" id="Footnote_33_39"></a><a href="#FNanchor_33_39"><span class="label">[33]</span></a> Know.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_34_40" id="Footnote_34_40"></a><a href="#FNanchor_34_40"><span class="label">[34]</span></a> Destruction.</p></div> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[Pg 6593]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 70%;"> +<a name="GRANT" id="GRANT"></a> +<span class="caption">ULYSSES S. GRANT.</span> +<img src="images/grant.jpg" width="100%" alt="ULYSSES S. GRANT." title="ULYSSES S. GRANT." /> +</div> + + +<h2><a name="ULYSSES_S_GRANT" id="ULYSSES_S_GRANT"></a>ULYSSES S. GRANT</h2> + +<h4>(1822-1885)</h4> + +<h4>BY HAMLIN GARLAND</h4> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 90px;"> +<img src="images/capu.png" width="90" height="91" alt="U" title="U" /> +</div><p class="dropcap">lysses Grant was born on the 27th of April, 1822, in a small +two-room cabin situated in Point Pleasant, a village in +southern Ohio, about forty miles above Cincinnati. His +father, Jesse R. Grant, was a powerful, alert, and resolute man, ready +of speech and of fair education for the time. His family came from +Connecticut, and was of the earliest settlers in New England. Hannah +Simpson, his wife, was of strong American stock also. The +Simpsons had been residents, for several generations, of southeastern +Pennsylvania. The Grants and the Simpsons had been redoubtable +warriors in the early wars of the republic. Hannah Simpson was a +calm, equable, self-contained young woman, as reticent and forbearing +as her husband was disputatious and impetuous.</p> + +<p>Their first child was named Hiram Ulysses Grant. Before the +child was two years of age, Jesse Grant, who was superintending a +tannery in Point Pleasant, removed to Georgetown, Brown County, +Ohio, and set up in business for himself. Georgetown was a village +in the deep woods, and in and about this village Ulysses Grant grew +to be a sturdy, self-reliant boy. He loved horses, and became a remarkable +rider and teamster at a very early age. He was not notable +as a scholar, but it was soon apparent that he had inherited the self-poise, +the reticence, and the modest demeanor of his mother. He +took part in the games and sports of the boys, but displayed no military +traits whatever. At the age of seventeen he was a fair scholar +for his opportunities, and his ambitious father procured for him an +appointment to the Military Academy at West Point. He reported at +the adjutant's desk in June 1839, where he found his name on the +register "Ulysses S. Grant" through a mistake of his Congressman, +Thomas L. Hamer. Meanwhile, to escape ridicule on the initials of +his name, which spelled "H.U.G." he had transposed his name to +Ulysses H. Grant, and at his request the adjutant changed the S to +an H; but the name on record in Washington was Ulysses S., and +so he remained "U. S. Grant" to the government and U. H. Grant +to his friends and relatives.</p> + +<p>His record at West Point was a good one in mathematics and fair +in most of his studies. He graduated at about the middle of his +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[Pg 6594]</a></span> +class, which numbered thirty-nine. He was much beloved and respected +as an upright, honorable, and loyal young fellow. At the +time of his graduation he was president of the only literary society +of the academy; W. S. Hancock was its secretary.</p> + +<p>He remained markedly unmilitary throughout his course, and was +remembered mainly as a good comrade, a youth of sound judgment, +and the finest horseman in the academy. He asked to be assigned +to cavalry duty, but was brevetted second lieutenant of the 4th +Infantry, and ordered to Jefferson Barracks, near St. Louis. Here +he remained till the spring of 1844, when his regiment was ordered +to a point on the southwestern frontier, near the present town of +Natchitoches, Louisiana. Here he remained till May 1845, when the +Mexican War opened, and for the next three years he served with +his regiment in every battle except Buena Vista. He was twice +promoted for gallant conduct, and demonstrated his great coolness, +resource, and bravery in the hottest fire. He was regimental +quartermaster much of the time, and might honorably have kept +out of battle, but he contrived to be in the forefront with his command.</p> + +<p>In the autumn of 1848 he married Miss Julia Dent of St. Louis, +and as first lieutenant and regimental quartermaster, with a brevet +of captain, he served at Sackett's Harbor and Detroit alternately till +June 1852, when he was ordered to the coast. This was a genuine +hardship, for he was unable to take his wife and child with him; +but he concluded to remain in the army, and went with his command, +sailing from New York and passing by the way of the Isthmus. +On the way across the Isthmus the regiment encountered +cholera, and all Grant's coolness, resource, and bravery were required +to get his charge safely across. "He seemed never to think of himself, +and appeared to be a man of iron," his companions said.</p> + +<p>He was regimental quartermaster at Fort Vancouver, near Portland, +Oregon, for one year. In 1853 he was promoted to a captaincy +and ordered to Fort Humboldt, near Eureka in California. In 1854, +becoming disheartened by the never-ending vista of barrack life, +and despairing of being able to have his wife and children with him, +he sent in his resignation, to take effect July 31st, 1854. He had lost +money by unfortunate business ventures, and so returned forlorn and +penniless to New York. Thence he made his way to St. Louis to +his wife and children, and began the world again as a farmer, without +a house or tools or horses.</p> + +<p>His father-in-law, Mr. Frederick Dent, who lived about ten miles +out of the city, set aside some sixty or eighty acres of land for his +use, and thereon he built with his own hands a log cabin, which he +called "Hardscrabble." For nearly four years he lived the life of a +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[Pg 6595]</a></span> +farmer. He plowed, hoed, cleared the land, hauled wood and props +to the mines, and endured all the hardships and privations of a small +farmer. In 1858 his health gave way, and he moved to St. Louis in +the attempt to get into some less taxing occupation. He tried for +the position of county engineer, and failed. He went into the real +estate business with a friend, and failed in that. He secured a place +in the customs office, but the collector died and he was thrown out +of employment.</p> + +<p>In the spring of 1860, despairing of getting a foothold in St. Louis, +he removed to Galena, Illinois, where his father had established a +leather store, a branch of his tannery in Covington, Kentucky. Here +he came in touch again with his two brothers, Simpson and Orvil +Grant. He became a clerk at a salary of six hundred dollars per +annum. At this time he was a quiet man of middle age, and his +manner and mode of life attracted little attention till in 1861, when +Sumter was fired upon and Lincoln called for volunteers. Galena at +once held a war meeting to raise a company. Captain Grant, because +of his military experience, was made president of the meeting, and +afterward was offered the captaincy of the company, which he refused, +saying, "I have been a captain in the regular army. I am +fitted to command a regiment."</p> + +<p>He wrote at once a patriotic letter to his father-in-law, wherein +he said, "I foresee the doom of slavery." He accompanied the company +to Springfield, where his military experience was needed. +Governor Richard Yates gave him work in the adjutant's office, +then made him drill-master at Camp Yates; and as his efficiency +became apparent he was appointed governor's aide, with rank of +colonel. He mustered in several regiments, among them the 7th +Congressional regiment at Mattoon. He made such an impression on +this regiment that they named their camp in his honor, and about +the middle of June sent a delegation of officers to ask that he be +made colonel. Governor Yates reluctantly appointed him, and at the +request of General John C. Frémont, the commander of the Department +of the West, Grant's regiment (known as the 21st Illinois Volunteers) +was ordered to Missouri. Colonel Grant marched his men +overland, being the first commander of the State to decline railway +transportation. His efficiency soon appeared, and he was given the +command of all the troops in and about Mexico, Missouri. At this +point he received a dispatch from E. B. Washburne, Congressman for +his district, that President Lincoln had made him brigadier-general. +He was put in command at Ironton, Missouri, and was proceeding +against Colonel Hardee, when he was relieved from command by +B. M. Prentiss and ordered to Jefferson City, Missouri. He again +brought order out of chaos, and was ready for a campaign, when he +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[Pg 6596]</a></span> +was again relieved, and by suggestion of President Lincoln placed +in command of a district with headquarters at Cairo, Illinois.</p> + +<p>This was his first adequate command, and with clear and orderly +activity he organized his command of nearly ten thousand men. On +the 6th of September, learning that the Confederates were advancing +on Paducah, he took the city without firing a gun, and issued an +address to the people of Kentucky which led Lincoln to say, "The +man who can write like that is fitted to command in the West." +Early in November, in obedience to a command from Frémont, he +fought the battle of Belmont, thus preventing General Polk from +reinforcing Price in Missouri. This was neither a victory nor a +defeat, as the purpose was not to hold Belmont.</p> + +<p>In February 1862, with an army of twenty thousand men and +accompanied by Commander Foote's flotilla, he took Fort Henry and +marched on Fort Donelson. On the 16th of the same month he had +invested Donelson and had beaten the enemy within their works. +General Simon Buckner, his old classmate and comrade, was in command. +He wrote to Grant, asking for commissioners to agree upon +terms. Grant replied: "<i>No terms except an unconditional and immediate +surrender can be accepted. I propose to move immediately upon your works.</i>" +Buckner surrendered, and Grant's sturdy words flamed over the land, +making him "Unconditional Surrender Grant." The whole nation +thrilled with the surprise and joy of this capture, and the obscure +brigadier-general became the hero of the day. He was made major-general, +and given the command of the District of Western Tennessee.</p> + +<p>On the 6th and 7th of April he fought the terrible battle of +Shiloh, and won it, though with great loss, owing to the failure of +part of his reinforcements to arrive. Immediately after this battle, +General H. W. Halleck, who had relieved General Frémont as commander +in the West, took command in person, and by a clever military +device deprived Grant of all command; and for six weeks the +army timidly advanced on Corinth. Corinth was evacuated by the +enemy before Halleck dared to attack, and Grant had no hand in +any important command until late in the year.</p> + +<p>Halleck went to Washington in July, leaving Grant again in command; +but his forces were so depleted that he could do little but +defend his lines and stores. In January 1863 he began to assemble +his troops to attack Vicksburg, but high water kept him inactive till +the following April. His plan, then fully developed, was to run the +battery with gunboats and transports, march his troops across the +peninsula before the city, and flank the enemy from below. This +superbly audacious plan involved cutting loose from his base of supplies +and all communications. He was obliged to whip two armies in +detail,—Johnston at Jackson, Mississippi, and Pemberton in command +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[Pg 6597]</a></span> +at Vicksburg. This marvelous campaign was executed to the letter, +and on the third day of July, Pemberton surrendered the largest body +of troops ever captured on this continent up to that time, and Grant +became the "man of destiny" of the army. All criticism was silenced. +The world's markets rose and fell with his daily doings. Lincoln +wrote him a letter of congratulation. The question of making "the +prop-hauler of the Gravois" general-in-chief of all the armies of the +United States was raised, and all the nation turned to him as the +savior of the republic.</p> + +<p>He was made commander of all the armies of the Mississippi, and +proceeded to Chattanooga to rescue Rosecrans and his beleaguered +army. In a series of swift and dramatic battles he captured Lookout +Mountain and Missionary Ridge. Wherever he went, victory seemed +to follow. His calm demeanor never changed. He was bent on +"whipping out the Rebellion." He was seen to be a warrior of a +new sort. He was never malignant, or cruel, or ungenerous to his +enemies; but he fought battles to win them, and the country now +clamored for him to lead the armies of the Potomac against Lee, the +great Southern general against whom no Northern general seemed +able to prevail.</p> + +<p>Early in March of 1864, Hon. E. B. Washburne introduced into +Congress a bill reviving the grade of Lieutenant-General. It was +passed by both houses with some discussion, and Lincoln conferred +the title and all it implied upon Grant. He called him to Washington, +and placed the whole conduct of the war in his hands. "I don't +want to know your plans," he said. Grant became absolutely chief +in command, and set forth at once to direct the Army of the Potomac +in person, and to encompass Lee as he had captured the armies +of Buckner and Pemberton. His aim was not to whip Lee, but to +destroy his army and end the war. He began an enormous encircling +movement which never for one moment relaxed. The Army of the +Potomac retreated no more. It had a commander who never knew +when he was beaten.</p> + +<p>He fought one day in the Wilderness, sustaining enormous losses; +but when the world expected retreat, he ordered an advance. He +fought another day, and on the third day ordered an advance. Lincoln +said, "At last I have a general." Grant never rested. After +every battle he advanced, inexorably closing around Lee. It took +him a year, but in the end he won. He captured Lee's army, and +ended the war on the 9th of April, 1865. His terms with the captured +general of the Southern forces were so chivalrous and generous +that it gained for him the respect and even admiration of the Southern +people. They could not forget that he was conqueror, but they +acknowledged his greatness of heart. He had no petty revenges.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[Pg 6598]</a></span></p> + +<p>Nothing in human history exceeds the contrasts in the life of +Ulysses Grant. When Lee surrendered to him, he controlled a battle +line from the Potomac to the Rio Grande, composed of a million +men. His lightest command had almost inconceivable power; and +yet he was the same man who had hauled wood in St. Louis and sold +awls and shoe-pegs in Galena,—he had been developed by opportunity. +Personally he remained simple to the point of inconspicuousness. +His rusty blouse, his worn hat, his dusty boots, his low and +modest voice, gave no indication of his exalted position and his enormous +power. At the grand review of the armies in Washington in +May, he sat with musing eyes while the victorious legions passed +him, so unobtrusive in the throng that his troops could hardly distinguish +his form and face; and when he returned to Galena, his old +home, he carried no visible sign of the power and glory to which he +had won his way step by step, by sheer power of doing things so +well that other and greater duties were intrusted to his keeping.</p> + +<p>He presented a new type of soldier to the world. He was never +vengeful, never angry in battle. When others swore and uttered +ferocious cries, Grant remained master of himself and every faculty, +uttering no oaths, giving his commands in full, clear, simple, dignified +phrases. He hated conflict. He cared nothing for the pomp and +circumstance of war; it was not glorious to him; and when it was +all over he said, "I never want to see a soldier's uniform again."</p> + +<p>He was the chief citizen of the republic at the close of the war, +and when Lincoln was assassinated he was the mainstay of the republic. +Every eye was turned upon him, and his calmness was most +salutary upon the nation. He became inevitably a candidate for +President, and was elected with great enthusiasm in 1868. In 1872 +he was re-elected, and during his two terms his one great purpose +was to reconstruct the nation. He did all that he could to heal the +scars of war. He stood between the malignants of the North and the +helpless people of the South, always patient and sympathetic. His +administrations ran in turbulent times, and corruption was abroad in +official circles, but there is no evidence that he was touched by it. +His administration was attacked; he was acquitted.</p> + +<p>In 1878, two years after his second term had ended, he went on a +trip around the world, visiting all the great courts and kings of the +leading nations. He received the most extraordinary honors ever +tendered to one human being by his fellows, but he returned to +Galena and to his boyhood home, the same good neighbor, just as +democratic in his intercourse as ever. He never forgot a face, whether +of the man who shod his horses or of the man who nominated him +for President, though he looked upon more people than any other +man in the history of the world.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[Pg 6599]</a></span></p> + +<p>In 1880 he mistakenly became a candidate for a third term, and +was defeated. Shortly after this he moved to New York City, and +became a nominal partner in the firm of Grant & Ward. His name +was used in the business; he had little connection with it, for he was +growing old and failing in health.</p> + +<p>In May 1884, through the rascality of Ferdinand Ward, the firm +failed, and General Grant lost every dollar he owned. Just before the +crash, in the attempt to save the firm, he went to a wealthy friend +and borrowed a large sum of money. After the failure the grim old +commander turned over to his creditor every trophy, every present +which had been given him by his foreign friends, even the jeweled +favors of kings and queens and the swords presented to him by his +fellow-citizens and by his soldiers; he reserved nothing. He became +so poor that his pew rent became a burden, and the question of +earning a living came to him with added force, for he was old and +lame, and attacked by cancer of the tongue.</p> + +<p>Now came the most heroic year of his life. Suffering almost +ceaseless pain, with the death shadow on him, he sat down to write +his autobiography for the benefit of his wife. He complained not at +all, and allowed nothing to stand in the way of his work. He wrote +on steadily, up to the very day of his death, long after the power of +speech was gone, revising his proofs, correcting his judgments of +commanders as new evidence arose, and in the end producing a book +which was a marvel of simple sincerity and modesty of statement, +and of transparent clarity of style. It took rank at once as one of +the great martial biographies of the world. It redeemed his name +and gave his wife a competency. It was a greater deed than the +taking of Vicksburg.</p> + +<p>In this final illness his thoughts dwelt much upon the differences +between the North and the South. From Mt. McGregor, where he +was taken in June 1885 to escape the heat of the city, he sent forth +repeated messages of good-will to the South. In this hour the two +mighty purposes of his life grew clearer in men's minds. He had +put down the Rebellion, and from the moment of Lee's surrender +had set himself the task of reuniting the severed nation. "Let us have +peace," he said; and the saying had all the effect of a benediction.</p> + +<p>He died on July 23rd, 1885, at the age of sixty-three; and at his +grave the North and the South stood side by side in friendship, and +the great captains of opposing armies walked shoulder to shoulder, +bearing his body to its final rest on the bank of the Hudson River. +The world knew his faults, his mistakes, and his weaknesses; but +they were all forgotten in the memory of his great deeds as a warrior, +and of his gentleness, modesty, candor, and purity as a man. +Since then it becomes increasingly more evident that he is to take +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">[Pg 6600]</a></span> +his place as one of three or four figures of the first class in our +national history. He was a man of action, and his deeds were of the +kind which mark epochs in history.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 487px;"> +<img src="images/sign376.png" width="487" height="100" alt="Hamlin Garland" title="Hamlin Garland" /> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="EARLY_LIFE" id="EARLY_LIFE"></a>EARLY LIFE</h3> + +<h4>From 'Personal Memoirs of U. S. Grant.' Copyright by Ulysses S. Grant, +and reprinted by permission of the family of General Grant</h4> + +<p>In June 1821 my father, Jesse R. Grant, married Hannah +Simpson. I was born on the 27th of April, 1822, at Point +Pleasant, Clermont County, Ohio. In the fall of 1823 we +moved to Georgetown, the county seat of Brown, the adjoining +county east. This place remained my home until at the age of +seventeen, in 1839, I went to West Point.</p> + +<p>The schools at the time of which I write were very indifferent. +There were no free schools, and none in which the scholars +were classified. They were all supported by subscription, and a +single teacher—who was often a man or a woman incapable of +teaching much, even if they imparted all they knew—would +have thirty or forty scholars, male and female, from the infant +learning the A B C's up to the young lady of eighteen and the +boy of twenty, studying the highest branches taught—the three +R's, "Reading, 'Riting, and 'Rithmetic." I never saw an algebra +or other mathematical work higher than the arithmetic, in +Georgetown, until after I was appointed to West Point. I then +bought a work on algebra, in Cincinnati; but having no teacher, +it was Greek to me.</p> + +<p>My life in Georgetown was uneventful. From the age of five +or six until seventeen, I attended the subscription schools of the +village, except during the winters of 1836-7 and 1838-9. The +former period was spent in Maysville, Kentucky, attending the +school of Richardson and Rand; the latter in Ripley, Ohio, at a +private school. I was not studious in habit, and probably did +not make progress enough to compensate for the outlay for board +and tuition. At all events, both winters were spent in going +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">[Pg 6601]</a></span> +over the same old arithmetic which I knew every word of before, +and repeating, "A noun is the name of a thing," which I had +also heard my Georgetown teachers repeat until I had come to +believe it—but I cast no reflections upon my old teacher Richardson. +He turned out bright scholars from his school, many of +whom have filled conspicuous places in the service of their States. +Two of my contemporaries there—who I believe never attended +any other institution of learning—have held seats in Congress, +and one, if not both, other high offices; these are Wadsworth +and Brewster.</p> + +<p>My father was from my earliest recollection in comfortable +circumstances, considering the times, his place of residence, and +the community in which he lived. Mindful of his own lack of +facilities for acquiring an education, his greatest desire in maturer +years was for the education of his children. Consequently, +as stated before, I never missed a quarter from school, from the +time I was old enough to attend till the time of leaving home. +This did not exempt me from labor. In my early days every +one labored more or less, in the region where my youth was +spent, and more in proportion to their private means. It was +only the very poor who were exempt. While my father carried +on the manufacture of leather and worked at the trade himself, +he owned and tilled considerable land. I detested the trade, preferring +almost any other labor; but I was fond of agriculture, +and of all employment in which horses were used. We had, +among other lands, fifty acres of forest within a mile of the village. +In the fall of the year, choppers were employed to cut +enough wood to last a twelvemonth. When I was seven or eight +years of age, I began hauling all the wood used in the house +and shops. I could not load it on the wagons, of course, at that +time; but I could drive, and the choppers would load, and some +one at the house unload. When about eleven years old, I was +strong enough to hold a plow. From that age until seventeen +I did all the work done with horses, such as breaking up the +land, furrowing, plowing corn and potatoes, bringing in the crops +when harvested, hauling all the wood, besides tending two or +three horses, a cow or two, and sawing wood for stoves, etc., +while still attending school. For this I was compensated by the +fact that there was never any scolding or punishing by my parents; +no objection to rational enjoyments, such as fishing, going +to the creek a mile away to swim in summer, taking a horse and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">[Pg 6602]</a></span> +visiting my grandparents in the adjoining county, fifteen miles +off, skating on the ice in winter, or taking a horse and sleigh +when there was snow on the ground.</p> + +<p>While still quite young I had visited Cincinnati, forty-five +miles away, several times, alone; also Maysville, Kentucky,—often,—and +once Louisville. The journey to Louisville was a big +one for a boy of that day. I had also gone once with a two-horse +carriage to Chillicothe, about seventy miles, with a neighbor's +family who were removing to Toledo, Ohio, and returned +alone; and had gone once in like manner to Flat Rock, Kentucky, +about seventy miles away. On this latter occasion I was +fifteen years of age. While at Flat Rock, at the house of a Mr. +Payne, whom I was visiting with his brother, a neighbor of ours +in Georgetown, I saw a very fine saddle horse which I rather +coveted; and proposed to Mr. Payne, the owner, to trade him +for one of the two I was driving. Payne hesitated to trade with +a boy, but asking his brother about it, the latter told him that it +would be all right; that I was allowed to do as I pleased with +the horses. I was seventy miles from home, with a carriage to +take back, and Mr. Payne said he did not know that his horse +had ever had a collar on. I asked to have him hitched to a farm +wagon, and we would soon see whether he would work. It was +soon evident that the horse had never worn harness before; but +he showed no viciousness, and I expressed a confidence that I +could manage him. A trade was at once struck, I receiving ten +dollars difference.</p> + +<p>The next day, Mr. Payne of Georgetown and I started on our +return. We got along very well for a few miles, when we encountered +a ferocious dog that frightened the horses and made +them run. The new animal kicked at every jump he made. I +got the horses stopped, however, before any damage was done, +and without running into anything. After giving them a little +rest, to quiet their fears, we started again. That instant the new +horse kicked, and started to run once more. The road we were +on struck the turnpike within half a mile of the point where +the second runaway commenced, and there was an embankment +twenty or more feet deep on the opposite side of the pike. I got +the horses stopped on the very brink of the precipice. My new +horse was terribly frightened, and trembled like an aspen; but he +was not half so badly frightened as my companion Mr. Payne, +who deserted me after this last experience, and took passage on +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">[Pg 6603]</a></span> +a freight wagon for Maysville. Every time I attempted to start, +my new horse would commence to kick. I was in quite a dilemma +for a time. Once in Maysville, I could borrow a horse +from an uncle who lived there; but I was more than a day's +travel from that point. Finally I took out my bandanna—the +style of handkerchief in universal use then—and with this blindfolded +my horse. In this way I reached Maysville safely the next +day, no doubt much to the surprise of my friend. Here I borrowed +a horse from my uncle, and the following day we proceeded +on our journey.</p> + +<p>About half my school days in Georgetown were spent at the +school of John D. White, a North-Carolinian, and the father of +Chilton White, who represented the district in Congress for one +term during the Rebellion. Mr. White was always a Democrat +in politics, and Chilton followed his father. He had two older +brothers,—all three being schoolmates of mine at their father's +school,—who did not go the same way. The second brother died +before the Rebellion began; he was a Whig, and afterwards a +Republican. His oldest brother was a Republican and brave +soldier during the Rebellion. Chilton is reported as having told +of an earlier horse trade of mine. As he told the story, there +was a Mr. Ralston living within a few miles of the village, who +owned a colt which I very much wanted. My father had offered +twenty dollars for it, but Ralston wanted twenty-five. I was so +anxious to have the colt, that after the owner left I begged to +be allowed to take him at the price demanded. My father +yielded, but said twenty dollars was all the horse was worth, and +told me to offer that price; if it was not accepted I was to offer +twenty-two and a half, and if that would not get him, to give +the twenty-five. I at once mounted a horse and went for the +colt. When I got to Mr. Ralston's house, I said to him, "Papa +says I may offer you twenty dollars for the colt, but if you won't +take that, I am to offer twenty-two and a half, and if you won't +take that, to give you twenty-five." It would not require a Connecticut +man to guess the price finally agreed upon. This story +is nearly true. I certainly showed very plainly that I had come +for the colt and meant to have him. I could not have been over +eight years old at the time. This transaction caused me great +heart-burning. The story got out among the boys of the village, +and it was a long time before I heard the last of it. Boys enjoy +the misery of their companions,—at least village boys in that day +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">[Pg 6604]</a></span> +did, and in later life I have found that all adults are not free +from the peculiarity. I kept the horse until he was four years +old, when he went blind, and I sold him for twenty dollars. +When I went to Maysville to school, in 1836, at the age of fourteen, +I recognized my colt as one of the blind horses working on +the tread-wheel of the ferry-boat.</p> + +<p>I have described enough of my early life to give an impression +of the whole. I did not like to work; but I did as much of +it, while young, as grown men can be hired to do in these days, +and attended school at the same time. I had as many privileges +as any boy in the village, and probably more than most of them. +I have no recollection of ever having been punished at home, +either by scolding or by the rod. But at school the case was different. +The rod was freely used there, and I was not exempt +from its influence. I can see John D. White, the school-teacher, +now, with his long beech switch always in his hand. It was not +always the same one, either. Switches were brought in bundles +from a beech wood near the schoolhouse, by the boys for whose +benefit they were intended. Often a whole bundle would be used +up in a single day. I never had any hard feelings against my +teacher, either while attending the school or in later years when +reflecting upon my experience. Mr. White was a kind-hearted +man, and was much respected by the community in which he +lived. He only followed the universal custom of the period, and +that under which he had received his own education....</p> + +<p>In the winter of 1838-9 I was attending school at Ripley, only +ten miles distant from Georgetown, but spent the Christmas holidays +at home. During this vacation my father received a letter +from the Honorable Thomas Morris, then United States Senator +from Ohio. When he read it he said to me, "Ulysses, I believe +you are going to receive the appointment." "What appointment?" +I inquired.—"To West Point; I have applied for it." +"But I won't go," I said. He said he thought I would, <i>and I +thought so too, if he did</i>. I really had no objection to going to +West Point, except that I had a very exalted idea of the acquirements +necessary to get through. I did not believe I possessed +them, and could not bear the idea of failing.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">[Pg 6605]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="GRANTS_COURTSHIP" id="GRANTS_COURTSHIP"></a>GRANT'S COURTSHIP</h3> + +<h4>From 'Personal Memoirs of U. S. Grant.' Copyright by Ulysses S. Grant, +and reprinted by permission of the family of General Grant.</h4> + +<p>At West Point I had a classmate,—in the last year of our +studies he was room-mate also,—F. T. Dent, whose family +resided some five miles west of Jefferson Barracks. Two +of his unmarried brothers were living at home at that time, and +as I had taken with me from Ohio my horse, saddle, and bridle, +I soon found my way out to White Haven, the name of the +Dent estate. As I found the family congenial, my visits became +frequent. There were at home, besides the young men, two +daughters, one a school-miss of fifteen, the other a girl of eight +or nine. There was still an older daughter of seventeen, who +had been spending several years at a boarding-school in St. Louis, +but who, though through school, had not yet returned home. +She was spending the winter in the city with connections, the +family of Colonel John O'Fallon, well known in St. Louis. In +February she returned to her country home. After that I do +not know but my visits became more frequent: they certainly +did become more enjoyable. We would often take walks, or go +on horseback to visit the neighbors, until I became quite well +acquainted in that vicinity. Sometimes one of the brothers +would accompany us, sometimes one of the younger sisters. If +the 4th Infantry had remained at Jefferson Barracks it is possible, +even probable, that this life might have continued for some years +without my finding out that there was anything serious the matter +with me; but in the following May a circumstance occurred +which developed my sentiment so palpably that there was no +mistaking it.</p> + +<p>The annexation of Texas was at this time the subject of violent +discussion in Congress, in the press, and by individuals. The +administration of President Tyler, then in power, was making the +most strenuous efforts to effect the annexation, which was indeed +the great and absorbing question of the day. During these discussions +the greater part of the single rifle regiment in the army—the +2d Dragoons, which had been dismounted a year or two +before, and designated "Dismounted Rifles"—was stationed at +Fort Jessup, Louisiana, some twenty-five miles east of the Texas +line, to observe the frontier. About the first of May the 3d +Infantry was ordered from Jefferson Barracks to Louisiana, to go +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382">[Pg 6606]</a></span> +into camp in the neighborhood of Fort Jessup, and there await +further orders. The troops were embarked on steamers, and were +on their way down the Mississippi within a few days after the +receipt of this order. About the time they started I obtained a +leave of absence for twenty days to go to Ohio to visit my parents. +I was obliged to go to St. Louis to take a steamer for +Louisville or Cincinnati, or the first steamer going up the Ohio +River to any point. Before I left St. Louis, orders were received +at Jefferson Barracks for the 4th Infantry to follow the 3d. A +messenger was sent after me to stop my leaving; but before +he could reach me I was off, totally ignorant of these events. A +day or two after my arrival at Bethel I received a letter from +a classmate and fellow lieutenant in the 4th, informing me of +the circumstances related above, and advising me not to open +any letter postmarked St. Louis or Jefferson Barracks until the +expiration of my leave, and saying that he would pack up my +things and take them along for me. His advice was not necessary, +for no other letter was sent to me. I now discovered that +I was exceedingly anxious to get back to Jefferson Barracks, and +I understood the reason without explanation from any one. My +leave of absence required me to report for duty at Jefferson Barracks +at the end of twenty days. I knew my regiment had gone +up the Red River, but I was not disposed to break the letter of +my leave; besides, if I had proceeded to Louisiana direct, I could +not have reached there until after the expiration of my leave. +Accordingly, at the end of the twenty days I reported for duty +to Lieutenant Ewell, commanding at Jefferson Barracks, handing +him at the same time my leave of absence. After noticing the +phraseology of the order—leaves of absence were generally +worded, "at the end of which time he will report for duty with +his proper command"—he said he would give me an order to +join my regiment in Louisiana. I then asked for a few days' +leave before starting, which he readily granted. This was the +same Ewell who acquired considerable reputation as a Confederate +general during the Rebellion. He was a man much esteemed, +and deservedly so, in the old army, and proved himself a gallant +and efficient officer in two wars—both in my estimation unholy.</p> + +<p>I immediately procured a horse and started for the country, +taking no baggage with me, of course. There is an insignificant +creek, the Gravois, between Jefferson Barracks and the place +to which I was going, and at that day there was not a bridge +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383">[Pg 6607]</a></span> +over it from its source to its mouth. There is not water enough +in the creek at ordinary stages to run a coffee-mill, and at low +water there is none running whatever. On this occasion it had +been raining heavily, and when the creek was reached I found +the banks full to overflowing, and the current rapid. I looked at +it a moment to consider what to do. One of my superstitions +had always been when I started to go anywhere, or do anything, +not to turn back or stop until the thing intended was accomplished. +I have frequently started to go to places where I had +never been and to which I did not know the way, depending +upon making inquiries on the road, and if I got past the place +without knowing it, instead of turning back, I would go on until +a road was found turning in the right direction, take that, and +come in by the other side. So I struck into the stream, and in +an instant the horse was swimming and I being carried down by +the current. I headed the horse towards the other bank and soon +reached it, wet through and without other clothes on that side of +the stream. I went on, however, to my destination and borrowed +a dry suit from my (future) brother-in-law. We were not of +the same size, but the clothes answered every purpose until I got +more of my own.</p> + +<p>Before I returned I mustered up courage to make known, in +the most awkward manner imaginable, the discovery I had made +on learning that the 4th Infantry had been ordered away from +Jefferson Barracks. The young lady afterwards admitted that +she too, although until then she had never looked upon me other +than as a visitor whose company was agreeable to her, had experienced +a depression of spirits she could not account for when +the regiment left. Before separating, it was definitely understood +that at a convenient time we would join our fortunes, and not +let the removal of a regiment trouble us. This was in May 1844. +It was the 22d of August, 1848, before the fulfillment of this +agreement. My duties kept me on the frontier of Louisiana with +the Army of Observation during the pendency of Annexation; +and afterwards I was absent through the war with Mexico provoked +by the action of the army, if not by the annexation itself. +During that time there was a constant correspondence between +Miss Dent and myself, but we only met once in the period of +four years and three months. In May 1845 I procured a leave +for twenty days, visited St. Louis, and obtained the consent of +the parents for the union, which had not been asked for before.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384">[Pg 6608]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="A_TEXAN_EXPERIENCE" id="A_TEXAN_EXPERIENCE"></a>A TEXAN EXPERIENCE</h3> + +<h4>From 'Personal Memoirs of U. S. Grant.' Copyright by Ulysses S. Grant, +and reprinted by permission of the family of General Grant</h4> + +<p>I had never been a sportsman in my life; had scarcely ever +gone in search of game, and rarely seen any when looking +for it. On this trip there was no minute of time while +traveling between San Patricio and the settlements on the San +Antonio River, from San Antonio to Austin, and again from the +Colorado River back to San Patricio, when deer or antelope +could not be seen in great numbers. Each officer carried a shotgun, +and every evening after going into camp, some would go +out and soon return with venison and wild turkeys enough for +the entire camp. I however never went out, and had no occasion +to fire my gun; except, being detained over a day at Goliad, +Benjamin and I concluded to go down to the creek—which was +fringed with timber, much of it the pecan—and bring back a +few turkeys. We had scarcely reached the edge of the timber +when I heard the flutter of wings overhead, and in an instant I +saw two or three turkeys flying away. These were soon followed +by more, then more and more, until a flock of twenty or thirty +had left from just over my head. All this time I stood watching +the turkeys to see where they flew, with my gun on my +shoulder, and never once thought of leveling it at the birds. +When I had time to reflect upon the matter, I came to the conclusion +that as a sportsman I was a failure, and went back to +the house. Benjamin remained out, and got as many turkeys as +he wanted to carry back.</p> + +<p>After the second night at Goliad, Benjamin and I started to +make the remainder of the journey alone. We reached Corpus +Christi just in time to avoid "absence without leave." We met +no one, not even an Indian, during the remainder of our journey, +except at San Patricio. A new settlement had been started +there in our absence of three weeks, induced possibly by the +fact that there were houses already built, while the proximity +of troops gave protection against the Indians. On the evening +of the first day out from Goliad we heard the most unearthly +howling of wolves, directly in our front. The prairie grass was +tall and we could not see the beasts, but the sound indicated +that they were near. To my ear it appeared that there must +have been enough of them to devour our party, horses and all, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_385" id="Page_385">[Pg 6609]</a></span> +at a single meal. The part of Ohio that I hailed from was not +thickly settled, but wolves had been driven out long before I +left. Benjamin was from Indiana, still less populated, where the +wolf yet roamed over the prairies. He understood the nature of +the animal, and the capacity of a few to make believe there was +an unlimited number of them. He kept on towards the noise, +unmoved. I followed in his trail, lacking moral courage to turn +back and join our sick companion. I have no doubt that if Benjamin +had proposed returning to Goliad, I would not only have +"seconded the motion," but have suggested that it was very +hard-hearted in us to leave Augur sick there in the first place; +but Benjamin did not propose turning back. When he did speak +it was to ask, "Grant, how many wolves do you think there are +in that pack?" Knowing where he was from, and suspecting +that he thought I would overestimate the number, I determined +to show my acquaintance with the animal by putting the estimate +below what possibly could be correct, and answered, "Oh, +about twenty," very indifferently. He smiled and rode on. In +a minute we were close upon them, and before they saw us. +There were just <i>two</i> of them. Seated upon their haunches, with +their mouths close together, they had made all the noise we had +been hearing for the past ten minutes. I have often thought of +this incident since, when I have heard the noise of a few disappointed +politicians who had deserted their associates. There +are always more of them before they are counted.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="THE_SURRENDER_OF_GENERAL_LEE" id="THE_SURRENDER_OF_GENERAL_LEE"></a>THE SURRENDER OF GENERAL LEE</h3> + +<h4>From 'Personal Memoirs of U. S. Grant.' Copyright by Ulysses S. Grant, +and reprinted by permission of the family of General Grant</h4> + +<p>Wars produce many stories of fiction, some of which are told +until they are believed to be true. The War of the Rebellion +was no exception to this rule, and the story of the +apple-tree is one of those fictions based on a slight foundation of +fact. As I have said, there was an apple orchard on the side of +the hill occupied by the Confederate forces. Running diagonally +up the hill was a wagon road, which at one point ran very near +one of the trees, so that the wheels of vehicles had on that +side cut off the roots of this tree, leaving a little embankment. +General Babcock, of my staff, reported to me that when he first +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_386" id="Page_386">[Pg 6610]</a></span> +met General Lee he was sitting upon this embankment with his +feet in the road below and his back resting against the tree. +The story had no other foundation than that. Like many other +stories, it would be very good if it was only true.</p> + +<p>I had known General Lee in the old army, and had served +with him in the Mexican War: but did not suppose, owing to +the difference in our age and rank, that he would remember +me; while I would more naturally remember him distinctly, because +he was the chief of staff of General Scott in the Mexican +War.</p> + +<p>When I had left camp that morning I had not expected so +soon the result that was then taking place, and consequently was +in rough garb. I was without a sword, as I usually was when +on horseback on the field, and wore a soldier's blouse for a coat, +with the shoulder-straps of my rank to indicate to the army who +I was. When I went into the house I found General Lee. We +greeted each other, and after shaking hands took our seats. I +had my staff with me, a good portion of whom were in the room +during the whole of the interview.</p> + +<p>What General Lee's feelings were I do not know. As he was +a man of much dignity, with an impassible face, it was impossible +to say whether he felt inwardly glad that the end had finally +come, or felt sad over the result and was too manly to show it. +Whatever his feelings, they were entirely concealed from my +observation; but my own feelings, which had been quite jubilant +on the receipt of his letter, were sad and depressed. I felt like +anything rather than rejoicing at the downfall of a foe who had +fought so long and valiantly, and had suffered so much for a +cause,—though that cause was, I believe, one of the worst for +which a people ever fought, and one for which there was the +least excuse. I do not question, however, the sincerity of the +great mass of those who were opposed to us.</p> + +<p>General Lee was dressed in a full uniform which was entirely +new, and was wearing a sword of considerable value, very likely +the sword which had been presented by the State of Virginia; +at all events, it was an entirely different sword from the one +that would ordinarily be worn in the field. In my rough traveling +suit, the uniform of a private with the straps of a lieutenant-general, +I must have contrasted very strangely with a man so +handsomely dressed, six feet high and of faultless form. But +this was not a matter that I thought of until afterwards.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_387" id="Page_387">[Pg 6611]</a></span></p> + +<p>We soon fell into a conversation about old army times. He +remarked that he remembered me very well in the old army; +and I told him that as a matter of course I remembered him +perfectly, but from the difference in our rank and years (there +being about sixteen years' difference in our ages), I had thought +it very likely that I had not attracted his attention sufficiently to +be remembered by him after such a long interval. Our conversation +grew so pleasant that I almost forgot the object of our +meeting. After the conversation had run on in this style for +some time, General Lee called my attention to the object of our +meeting, and said that he had asked for this interview for the +purpose of getting from me the terms I proposed to give his +army. I said that I meant merely that his army should lay +down their arms, not to take them up again during the continuance +of the war unless duly and properly exchanged. He said +that he had so understood my letter.</p> + +<p>Then we gradually fell off again into conversation about matters +foreign to the subject which had brought us together. This +continued for some little time, when General Lee again interrupted +the course of the conversation by suggesting that the +terms I had proposed to give his army ought to be written out. +I called to General Parker, secretary on my staff, for writing materials, +and commenced writing out the following terms:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="author"><span class="smcap">Appomattox C. H., Va.</span>, April 9th, 1865.</p> + +<p><i>Gen. R. E. Lee, Comd'g C. S. A.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Gen.</span>:—In accordance with the substance of my letter to you +of the 8th inst., I propose to receive the surrender of the +Army of N. Va. on the following terms, to wit: Rolls of +all the officers and men to be made in duplicate. One copy to +be given to an officer designated by me, the other to be retained +by such officer or officers as you may designate. The officers to +give their individual paroles not to take up arms against the +Government of the United States until properly exchanged, and +each company or regimental commander sign a like parole for +the men of their commands. The arms, artillery, and public +property to be parked and stacked, and turned over to the officer +appointed by me to receive them. This will not embrace the +side-arms of the officers, nor their private horses or baggage. +This done, each officer and man will be allowed to return to +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_388" id="Page_388">[Pg 6612]</a></span> +their homes, not to be disturbed by United States authority so +long as they observe their paroles and the laws in force where +they may reside.</p> + +<p class="regards">Very respectfully,</p> +<p class="author"><span class="smcap">U. S. Grant</span>,</p> +<p style="text-align:right">Lt. Gen.<br /></p> + +</div> + +<p>When I put my pen to the paper I did not know the first +word that I should make use of in writing the terms. I only +knew what was in my mind, and I wished to express it clearly, +so that there could be no mistaking it. As I wrote on, the +thought occurred to me that the officers had their own private +horses and effects, which were important to them but of no value +to us; also that it would be an unnecessary humiliation to call +upon them to deliver their side-arms.</p> + +<p>No conversation, not one word, passed between General +Lee and myself, either about private property, side-arms, or +kindred subjects. He appeared to have no objections to the +terms first proposed; or if he had a point to make against them, +he wished to wait until they were in writing to make it. When +he read over that part of the terms about side-arms, horses, +and private property of the officers, he remarked—with some +feeling, I thought—that this would have a happy effect upon +his army.</p> + +<p>Then, after a little further conversation, General Lee remarked +to me again that their army was organized a little diferently +from the army of the United States (still maintaining +by implication that we were two countries); that in their army +the cavalrymen and artillerists owned their own horses: and he +asked if he was to understand that the men who so owned their +horses were to be permitted to retain them. I told him that as +the terms were written they would not; that only the officers +were permitted to take their private property. He then, after +reading over the terms a second time, remarked that that was +clear.</p> + +<p>I then said to him that I thought this would be about the +last battle of the war—I sincerely hoped so; and I said further, +I took it that most of the men in the ranks were small farmers. +The whole country had been so raided by the two armies that it +was doubtful whether they would be able to put in a crop to +carry themselves and their families through the next winter +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_389" id="Page_389">[Pg 6613]</a></span> +without the aid of the horses they were then riding. The United +States did not want them; and I would therefore instruct the +officers I left behind to receive the paroles of his troops to let +every man of the Confederate army who claimed to own a horse +or mule take the animal to his home. Lee remarked again that +this would have a happy effect.</p> + +<p>He then sat down and wrote out the following letter:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="author"><span class="smcap">Headquarters Army of Northern Virginia</span>, April 9th, 1865.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">General</span>:—I received your letter of this date containing the +terms of the surrender of the Army of Northern Virginia +as proposed by you. As they are substantially the same +as those expressed in your letter of the 8th inst., they are accepted. +I will proceed to designate the proper officers to carry +the stipulations into effect.</p> + +<p class="regards"><span class="smcap">R. E. Lee</span>,</p> +<p class="author">General.</p> +<p class="salute"><i>Lieut.-General U. S. Grant.</i><br /></p> +</div> + +<p>While duplicates of the two letters were being made, the +Union generals present were severally presented to General Lee.</p> + +<p>The much-talked-of surrendering of Lee's sword and my +handing it back, this and much more that has been said about it +is the purest romance. The word sword or side-arms was not +mentioned by either of us until I wrote it in the terms. There +was no premeditation, and it did not occur to me until the +moment I wrote it down. If I had happened to omit it, and +General Lee had called my attention to it, I should have put +it in the terms, precisely as I acceded to the provision about the +soldiers retaining their horses.</p> + +<p>General Lee, after all was completed and before taking his +leave, remarked that his army was in a very bad condition for +want of food, and that they were without forage; that his men +had been living for some days on parched corn exclusively, and +that he would have to ask me for rations and forage. I told him +"Certainly," and asked for how many men he wanted rations. +His answer was "About twenty-five thousand"; and I authorized +him to send his own commissary and quartermaster to Appomattox +Station, two or three miles away, where he could have, out +of the trains we had stopped, all the provisions wanted. As for +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_390" id="Page_390">[Pg 6614]</a></span> +forage, we had ourselves depended almost entirely upon the country +for that.</p> + +<p>Generals Gibbon, Griffin, and Merritt were designated by +me to carry into effect the paroling of Lee's troops before they +should start for their homes,—General Lee leaving Generals +Longstreet, Gordon, and Pendleton for them to confer with in +order to facilitate this work. Lee and I then separated as +cordially as we had met, he returning to his own lines, and all +went into bivouac for the night at Appomattox.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_391" id="Page_391">[Pg 6615]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="HENRY_GRATTAN" id="HENRY_GRATTAN"></a>HENRY GRATTAN</h2> + +<h4>(1746-1820)</h4> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 90px;"> +<img src="images/caph.png" width="90" height="90" alt="H" title="H" /> +</div><p class="dropcap">enry Grattan, eminent among Irish orators and statesmen, +was born in Dublin, July 3d, 1746. He graduated from +Trinity College in 1767, became a law student of the Middle +Temple, London, and was admitted to the bar in 1772. He soon became +drawn into open political life, entering the Irish Parliament in +1775.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 170px;"> +<img src="images/grattan.png" width="170" height="211" alt="Henry Grattan" title="Henry Grattan" /> +<span class="caption"><span class="smcap">Henry Grattan</span></span> +</div> + +<p>In Parliament he espoused the popular cause. His memorable +displays of oratory followed fast and plentifully. On April 19th, 1780, +he attacked the right of England to legislate +for Ireland. With that address his reputation +was made. He became incessant in +his efforts to remove oppressive legislation. +By his eloquence he quickened into life a +national spirit, to culminate in a convention +at Dungannon on February 15th, 1782, where +resolutions in favor of legislative independence +were stormily adopted. Presently, after +a speech of surpassing power from him, the +Declaration of Rights Bill was passed unanimously +by both houses, with an unwilling +enactment from England. The idol now of +Ireland, Grattan was voted by its Parliament +a grant of £50,000 "as a testimony of national +gratitude for great national services." The next eighteen years +saw him resolute to secure for Ireland liberal laws, greater commercial +freedom, better conditions for the peasantry, the wiping out of +Parliamentary corruption, and especially the absolute emancipation of +the Roman Catholics. After the Union he lived in retirement, devoting +himself to the study of the classics and to the education of his children +until 1805. Then at the request of Fox he entered the imperial +Parliament, making his first speech in favor of Fox's motion for a +committee on the Roman Catholic Petition, an address described as +"one of the most brilliant speeches ever made within the walls of +Parliament." In 1806 he was elected a member for Dublin, which city +he represented until his decease. His last speech was made on May +5th, 1819, in favor of Roman Catholic emancipation. It is to be noted +that he was by profession and conviction a Protestant. He died in +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_392" id="Page_392">[Pg 6616]</a></span> +1820. He was buried in Westminster Abbey, near the graves of Chatham +and Fox.</p> + +<p>In spite of great natural drawbacks, Grattan achieved the highest +rank as an orator; and his passionate eloquence has rarely been +equaled in fervor and originality.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="ON_THE_CHARACTER_OF_CHATHAM" id="ON_THE_CHARACTER_OF_CHATHAM"></a>ON THE CHARACTER OF CHATHAM</h3> + +<p>The Secretary stood alone; modern degeneracy had not reached +him. Original and unaccommodating, the features of his +character had the hardihood of antiquity. His august mind +overawed majesty; and one of his sovereigns thought royalty so +impaired in his presence that he conspired to remove him, in +order to be relieved from his superiority. No State chicanery, +no narrow system of vicious politics, sank him to the vulgar +level of the great; but overbearing, persuasive, and impracticable, +his object was England, his ambition was fame. Without dividing, +he destroyed party; without corrupting, he made a venal age +unanimous.</p> + +<p>France sank beneath him. With one hand he smote the +house of Bourbon, and wielded with the other the democracy of +England. The sight of his mind was infinite; and his schemes +were to affect, not England and the present age only, but Europe +and posterity. Wonderful were the means by which these schemes +were accomplished; always seasonable, always adequate, the suggestions +of an understanding animated by order and enlightened +by prophecy.</p> + +<p>The ordinary feelings which render life amiable and indolent +were unknown to him. No domestic difficulty, no domestic weakness +reached him; but aloof from the sordid occurrences of life, +and unsullied by its intercourse, he came occasionally into our +system to counsel and to decide. A character so exalted, so +strenuous, so various, and so authoritative astonished a corrupt +age; and the treasury trembled at the name of Pitt, through all +her classes of venality. Corruption imagined indeed that she +had found defects in this statesman, and talked much of the +ruin of his victories; but the history of his country and the +calamities of the enemy refuted her.</p> + +<p>Nor were his political abilities his only talents: his eloquence +was an era in the Senate; peculiar and spontaneous, familiarly +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_393" id="Page_393">[Pg 6617]</a></span> +expressing gigantic sentiments and instinctive wisdom; not like +the torrent of Demosthenes, or the splendid conflagration of +Tully, it resembled sometimes the thunder and sometimes the +music of the spheres. He did not, like Murray, conduct the +understanding through the painful subtlety of argumentation, nor +was he, like Townshend, forever on the rack of exertion; but +rather lightened upon the subject, and reached the point by +flashings of the mind, which like those of his eye were felt but +could not be followed.</p> + +<p>Upon the whole, there was something in this man that could +create, subvert, or reform: an understanding, a spirit, and an +eloquence, to summon mankind to society, or to break the bonds +of slavery asunder and to rule the wilderness of free minds with +unbounded authority; something that could establish or overwhelm +empires, and strike a blow in the world which should resound +throughout the universe.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="OF_THE_INJUSTICE_OF_DISQUALIFICATION_OF_CATHOLICS" id="OF_THE_INJUSTICE_OF_DISQUALIFICATION_OF_CATHOLICS"></a>OF THE INJUSTICE OF DISQUALIFICATION OF CATHOLICS</h3> + +<h4>From the Speech of May 31st, 1811</h4> + +<p>Whatever belongs to the authority of God, or to the laws of +nature, is necessarily beyond the province and sphere of +human institution and government. The Roman Catholic, +when you disqualify him on the ground of his religion, may with +great justice tell you that you are not his God, that he cannot +mold or fashion his faith by your decrees. You may inflict penalties, +and he may suffer them in silence; but if Parliament assume +the prerogative of Heaven, and enact laws to impose upon +the people a different religion, the people will not obey such +laws. If you pass an act to impose a tax or regulate a duty, +the people can go to the roll to learn what are the provisions of +the law. But whenever you take upon yourselves to legislate +for God, though there may be truth in your enactments, you +have no authority to enforce them. In such a case, the people +will not go to the roll of Parliament, but to the Bible, the testament +of God's will, to ascertain his law and their duty. When +once man goes out of his sphere, and says he will legislate for +God, he in fact makes himself God. But this I do not charge +upon the Parliament, because in none of the Penal Acts has the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_394" id="Page_394">[Pg 6618]</a></span> +Parliament imposed a religious creed. It is not to be traced in +the qualification oath, nor in the declaration required. The qualifying +oath, as to the great number of offices and seats in Parliament, +scrupulously evades religious distinctions; a Dissenter of +any class may take it, a Deist, an atheist, may likewise take it. +The Catholics are alone excepted; and for what reason? Certainly +not because the internal character of the Catholic religion is +inherently vicious; not because it necessarily incapacitates those +who profess it to make laws for their fellow-citizens. If a Deist +be fit to sit in Parliament, it can hardly be urged that a Christian +is unfit. If an atheist be competent to legislate for his country, +surely this privilege cannot be denied to the believer in the +divinity of our Savior. But let me ask you if you have forgotten +what was the faith of your ancestors, or if you are prepared to +assert that the men who procured your liberties are unfit to make +your laws? Or do you forget the tempests by which the Dissenting +classes of the community were at a former period agitated, +or in what manner you fixed the rule of peace over that wild +scene of anarchy and commotion? If we attend to the present +condition and habits of these classes, do we not find their controversies +subsisting in full vigor? and can it be said that their +jarring sentiments and clashing interests are productive of any +disorder in the State; or that the Methodist himself, in all his +noisy familiarity with his Maker, is a dangerous or disloyal subject? +Upon what principle can it be argued that the application +of a similar policy would not conciliate the Catholics, and promote +the general interests of the empire? I can trace the continuance +of their incapacities to nothing else than a political +combination; a combination that condemned the Catholic religion, +not as a heresy, but as a symptom of a civil alienation. By this +doctrine, the religion is not so much an evil in itself as a perpetual +token of political disaffection. In the spirit of this liberal +interpretation, you once decreed to take away their arms, and on +another occasion ordered all Papists to be removed from London. +In the whole subsequent course of administration, the religion has +continued to be esteemed the infallible symptom of a propensity +to rebel. Known or suspected Papists were once the objects of +the severest jealousy and the bitterest enactments. Some of these +statutes have been repealed, and the jealousy has since somewhat +abated; but the same suspicions, although in a less degree, pervade +your councils. Your imaginations are still infected with +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_395" id="Page_395">[Pg 6619]</a></span> +apprehensions of the proneness of the Catholics to make cause +with a foreign foe. A treaty has lately been made with the +King of the Two Sicilies. May I ask: Is his religion the evidence +of the warmth of his attachment to your alliance? Does it enter +into your calculation as one of the motives that must incline him +to our friendship, in preference to the friendship of the State +professing his own faith? A similar treaty has been recently +entered into with the Prince Regent of Portugal, professing the +Roman Catholic religion; and one million granted last year and +two millions this session, for the defense of Portugal. Nay, even +in the treaty with the Prince Regent of Portugal, there is an +article which stipulates that we shall not make peace with France +unless Portugal shall be restored to the house of Braganza. And +has the Prince of Brazil's religion been considered evidence of +his connection with the enemy? You have not one ally who is +not Catholic; and will you continue to disqualify Irish Catholics, +who fight with you and your allies, because their religion is evidence +of disaffection?</p> + +<p>But if the Catholic religion be this evidence of repugnance, is +Protestantism the proof of affection to the Crown and government +of England? For an answer, let us look at America. In vain +did you send your armies there; in vain did you appeal to the +ties of common origin and common religion. America joined +with France, and adopted a connection with a Catholic government. +Turn to Prussia, and behold whether her religion has had +any effect on her political character. Did the faith of Denmark +prevent the attack on Copenhagen? It is admitted on all sides +that the Catholics have demonstrated their allegiance in as strong +a manner as the willing expenditure of blood and treasure can +evince. And remember that the French go not near so far in +their defense of Catholicism, as you in your hatred of it in your +own subjects and your reverence for it in your allies. They +have not scrupled to pull down the ancient fabrics of superstition +in the countries subjected to their arms. Upon a review of +these facts, I am justified in assuming that there is nothing inherent +in Catholicism which either proves disaffection, or disqualifies +for public trusts. The immediate inference is that they +have as much right as any dissentient sect to the enjoyment of +civil privileges and a participation of equal rights; that they are +as fit morally and politically to hold offices in the State or seats +in Parliament. Those who dispute the conclusion will find it +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_396" id="Page_396">[Pg 6620]</a></span> +their duty to controvert the reasoning on which it is founded. I +do not believe the Church is in any danger; but if it is, I am +sure that we are in a wrong way to secure it. If our laws will +battle against Providence, there can be no doubt of the issue of +the conflict between the ordinances of God and the decrees of +man: transient must be the struggle, rapid the event. Let us +suppose an extreme case, but applicable to the present point: +Suppose the Thames were to inundate its banks, and suddenly +swelling, enter this House during our deliberations (an event +which I greatly deprecate, from my private friendship with many +members who might happen to be present, and my sense of the +great exertions which many of them have made for the public +interest), and a motion of adjournment being made, should be +opposed, and an address to Providence moved that it would +be graciously pleased to turn back the overflow and direct the +waters into another channel. This, it will be said, would be +absurd; but consider whether you are acting upon a principle of +greater intrinsic wisdom, when after provoking the resentments +you arm and martialize the ambition of men, under the vain +assurance that Providence will work a miracle in the constitution +of human nature, and dispose it to pay injustice with affection, +oppression with cordial support. This is in fact the true character +of your expectations; nothing less than that the Author of +the Universe should subvert his laws to ratify your statutes, and +disturb the settled course of nature to confirm the weak, the base +expedients of man. What says the Decalogue? Honor thy father. +What says the penal law? Take away his estate! Again, says +the Decalogue, Do not steal. The law, on the contrary, proclaims, +You may rob a Catholic!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="ON_THE_DOWNFALL_OF_BONAPARTE" id="ON_THE_DOWNFALL_OF_BONAPARTE"></a>ON THE DOWNFALL OF BONAPARTE</h3> + +<h4>From the Speech of May 25th, 1815</h4> + +<p>The French government is war; it is a stratocracy, elective, +aggressive, and predatory; her armies live to fight, and +fight to live; their constitution is essentially war, and the +object of that war the conquest of Europe. What such a person +as Bonaparte at the head of such a constitution will do, you may +judge by what he has done: and first he took possession of a +greater part of Europe; he made his son King of Rome; he +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_397" id="Page_397">[Pg 6621]</a></span> +made his son-in-law Viceroy of Italy; he made his brother King +of Holland; he made his brother-in-law King of Naples; he +imprisoned the King of Spain; he banished the Regent of Portugal, +and formed his plan to take possession of the Crown of +England. England had checked his designs; her trident had +stirred up his empire from its foundation. He complained of her +tyranny at sea; but it was her power at sea which arrested his +tyranny on land,—the navy of England saved Europe. Knowing +this, he knew the conquest of England became necessary for the +accomplishment of the conquest of Europe, and the destruction +of her marine necessary for the conquest of England. Accordingly, +besides raising an army of 60,000 men for the invasion +of England, he applied himself to the destruction of her commerce, +the foundation of her naval power. In pursuit of this +object and on his plan of a Western empire, he conceived and +in part executed the design of consigning to plunder and destruction +the vast regions of Russia. He quits the genial clime +of the temperate zone; he bursts through the narrow limits of an +immense empire; he abandons comfort and security, and he hurries +to the Pole to hazard them all, and with them the companions +of his victories and the fame and fruits of his crimes and +his talents, on speculation of leaving in Europe, throughout the +whole of its extent, no one free or independent nation. To +oppose this huge conception of mischief and despotism, the great +potentate of the north from his gloomy recesses advances to +defend himself against the voracity of ambition, amid the sterility +of his empire. Ambition is omnivorous; it feasts on famine +and sheds tons of blood, that it may starve in ice in order to +commit a robbery on desolation. The power of the north, I say, +joins another prince, whom Bonaparte had deprived of almost the +whole of his authority,—the King of Prussia; and then another +potentate, whom Bonaparte had deprived of the principal part of +his dominions,—the Emperor of Austria. These three powers, +physical causes, final justice, the influence of your victories in +Spain and Portugal, and the spirit given to Europe by the +achievements and renown of your great commander [the Duke +of Wellington], together with the precipitation of his own ambition, +combine to accomplish his destruction; Bonaparte is conquered. +He who said, "I will be like the Most High," he who +smote the nations with a continual stroke,—this short-lived son +of the morning, Lucifer,—falls, and the earth is at rest; the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_398" id="Page_398">[Pg 6622]</a></span> +phantom of royalty passes on to nothing, and the three kings to +the gates of Paris: there they stand, the late victims of his +ambition, and now the disposers of his destiny and the masters +of his empire. Without provocation he had gone to their countries +with fire and sword; with the greatest provocation they +came to his country with life and liberty: they do an act unparalleled +in the annals of history, such as nor envy, nor time, nor +malice, nor prejudice, nor ingratitude can efface; they give to +his subjects liberty, and to himself life and royalty. This is +greater than conquest! The present race must confess their virtues, +and ages to come must crown their monuments, and place +them above heroes and kings in glory everlasting....</p> + +<p>Do you wish to confirm this military tyranny in the heart +of Europe,—a tyranny founded on the triumph of the army +over the principles of civil government, tending to universalize +throughout Europe the domination of the sword,—and to reduce +to paper and parchment, Magna Charta and all our civil constitutions? +An experiment such as no country ever made and no +good country would ever permit: to relax the moral and religious +influences; to set heaven and earth adrift from one another, and +make God Almighty a tolerated alien in his own creation; an +insurrectionary hope to every bad man in the community, and a +frightful lesson to profit and power, vested in those who have +pandered their allegiance from king to emperor, and now found +their pretensions to domination on the merit of breaking their +oaths and deposing their sovereign. Should you do anything so +monstrous as to leave your allies in order to confirm such a system; +should you forget your name, forget your ancestors, and the +inheritance they have left you of morality and renown; should +you astonish Europe by quitting your allies to render immortal +such a composition, would not the nations exclaim: "You have +very providently watched over our interests, and very generously +have you contributed to our service,—and do you falter now? In +vain have you stopped in your own person the flying fortunes of +Europe; in vain have you taken the eagle of Napoleon and +snatched <i>invincibility</i> from his standard, if now, when confederated +Europe is ready to march, you take the lead in the desertion +and preach the penitence of Bonaparte and the poverty of +England."</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_401" id="Page_401">[Pg 6623]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 70%;"> +<a name="GRAY" id="GRAY"></a> +<span class="caption">THOMAS GRAY.</span> +<img src="images/gray.jpg" width="100%" alt="THOMAS GRAY." title="THOMAS GRAY." /> +</div> + + + +<h2><a name="THOMAS_GRAY" id="THOMAS_GRAY"></a>THOMAS GRAY</h2> + +<h4>(1716-1771)</h4> + +<h4>BY GEORGE PARSONS LATHROP</h4> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 90px;"> +<img src="images/capt.png" width="90" height="90" alt="T" title="T" /> +</div><p class="dropcap">he fame of Thomas Gray is unique among English poets, in +that, although world-wide and luminous, it springs from a +single poem, a flawless masterpiece,—the 'Elegy Written in +a Country Church-Yard.' This is the one production by which he is +known to the great mass of readers and will continue to be known +to coming generations; yet in his own time his other poems were +important factors, in establishing the high repute accorded to him +then and still maintained in the esteem of critics. Nevertheless, living +to be nearly fifty-five and giving himself exclusively to letters, +the whole of the work that he left behind him amounted only to +some fourteen hundred lines.</p> + +<p>His value to literature and to posterity, therefore, is to be measured +not by the quantity of his literary contributions or by any special +variety in their scope, but by a certain wholesome and independent +influence which he exerted upon the language of poetry, and by a +rare quality of intense yet seemingly calm and almost repressed +genius, which no one among his commentators has been able to define +clearly. The most comprehensive thing ever written about him—wise, +just, witty, yet sympathetic and penetrating—is the essay by +James Russell Lowell in his final volume of criticism.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"It is the rarest thing," says Lowell, "to find genius and dilettantism +united in the same person (as for a time they were in Goethe): for genius +implies always a certain fanaticism of temperament, which, if sometimes it +seem fitful, is yet capable of intense energy on occasion; while the main characteristic +of the dilettante is that sort of impartiality which springs from +inertia of mind, admirable for observation, incapable of turning it to practical +account. Yet we have, I think, an example of this rare combination of qualities +in Gray; and it accounts both for the kind of excellence to which he +attained, and for the way in which he disappointed expectation.... He +is especially interesting as an artist in words and phrases, a literary type far +less common among writers of English than it is in France or Italy, where perhaps +the traditions of Latin culture were never wholly lost.... When so +many have written so much, we shall the more readily pardon the man who +has written too little or just enough."</p></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_402" id="Page_402">[Pg 6624]</a></span></p> + +<p>He was born in London, December 26th, 1716, the son of a money +scrivener who had dissipated most of his inherited property, but was +skilled in music, and perhaps transmitted to the son that musical +element which gives beauty and strength to his poetry. Gray's +mother was a woman of character, who with his aunt set up an +India warehouse and supported herself; also sending the young man +to St. Peter's College, Cambridge, after his studies at Eton. Leaving +college without a degree, he traveled on the Continent of Europe +with Horace Walpole in 1739; then returned to Cambridge and passed +the remainder of his life in the university, as a bachelor of civil law +nominally,—not practicing, but devoting himself to study and to +excursions through rural England. He had a profound and passionate +love for nature, a kind of religious exaltation in the contemplation +of it and in mountain worship, which was at variance with the prevailing +eighteenth-century literary mood and prefigured the feeling +of Wordsworth. His mother having retired to Stoke Poges, Buckinghamshire, +he often made visits there; and the church-yard of his +deathless 'Elegy' is generally believed to be that of the parish +church at Stoke Poges. It was here that he was laid to rest in +the same tomb with his mother and his aunt, after his death, July +24th, 1771.</p> + +<p>The 'Elegy' was finished in 1749. He had begun writing it seven +years before. This has sometimes been alluded to as an instance in +point of Horace's advice, that a poem should be matured for seven +years. The length of time given to the 'Elegy,' however, may be +accounted for partly by Gray's dilatory habits of writing, and partly +by the parallel of Tennyson's long delay in perfecting the utterance +of his meditations on the death of his friend Hallam through 'In +Memoriam.' Gray's dearest friend, Richard West, died in 1742; and +it was apparently under the stress of that sorrow that he began the +'Elegy,' which was completed only in 1749. Two years later it was +published. It won the popular heart immediately, and passed through +four editions in the first twelvemonth.</p> + +<p>Of Gray's other poems, those which have left the deepest impression +are his 'Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College,' 'The +Progress of Poesy,' and 'The Bard.' The last two are somewhat +Pindaric in style, but also suggest the influence of the Italian canzone. +In the Eton College ode, his first published piece, occurs the +phrase since grown proverbial, "Where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly +to be wise." It is a curious fact that while most readers know Gray +only as the author of the 'Elegy,' every one is familiar with certain +lines coined by him, but unaware of their source. For instance, in +'The Progress of Poesy,' he speaks of</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The unconquerable mind, and freedom's holy flame."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_403" id="Page_403">[Pg 6625]</a></span> +It is in the same place that he describes Milton as "blasted with excess +of light," and in alluding to Dryden, evolves the image of</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Thoughts that breathe, and words that burn."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>His, too, in 'The Bard,' is the now well-known line—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Many of his finest expressions are in part derived from classic or +other poets; but he showed undeniable genius in his adaptation, +transformation, or new creation from these suggestive passages.</p> + +<p>Gray was small and delicate in person, handsome and refined, fond +of fashionable dress, and preferred to be known as a "gentleman" +rather than a poet. He was very reticent, somewhat melancholy, and +an invalid; a man also of vast erudition, being learned not only in +literature but in botany, zoology, antiquities, architecture, art, history, +and philosophy as well. He enjoyed the distinction of refusing the +post of poet laureate, after the death of Cibber. On the other hand, +he coveted the place of professor of modern literature and languages +at Cambridge University, to which he was appointed in 1769; but he +never performed any of the duties of his professorship beyond that of +drawing the salary.</p> + +<p>He brought forth nothing in the special kinds of knowledge which +he had acquired in such large measure; and the actual ideas conveyed +in his poetry were not original, but savored rather of the +commonplace. Lowell says of the 'Elegy' that it won its popularity +"not through any originality of thought, but far more through originality +of sound." There must, however, be some deeper reason than +this for the grasp which it has upon the minds and hearts of all +classes. Two elements of power and popularity it certainly possessed +in the highest degree. One is the singular simplicity of its language +(a result of consummate art), which makes it understandable by everybody. +The other is the depth and the sincerity of the emotion with +which it imbues thoughts, sentiments, and reflections that are common +to the whole of mankind. The very unproductiveness of Gray's +mind in other directions probably helped this one product. The +quintessence of all his learning, his perceptive faculty, and his meditations +was infused into the life-blood of this immortal poem.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 531px;"> +<img src="images/sign403.png" width="531" height="76" alt="George Parsons Lathrop" title="George Parsons Lathrop" /> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_404" id="Page_404">[Pg 6626]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 70%;"> +<a name="CHURCH" id="CHURCH"></a> +<span class="caption"><i>STOKE POGES CHURCH AND CHURCHYARD.</i></span> +<img src="images/church.jpg" width="100%" alt="STOKE POGES CHURCH." title="STOKE POGES CHURCH." /> +<p class="center"><b>The burial-place of Thomas Gray and the scene of his famous Elegy.<br /> +Photogravure from a Photograph.</b></p> +</div> + + + +<h3><a name="ELEGY_WRITTEN_IN_A_COUNTRY_CHURCH-YARD" id="ELEGY_WRITTEN_IN_A_COUNTRY_CHURCH-YARD"></a>ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCH-YARD</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The curfew tolls the knell of parting day;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The plowman homeward plods his weary way,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And leaves the world to darkness and to me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And all the air a solemn stillness holds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Save that, from yonder ivy-mantled tower,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The moping owl does to the moon complain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of such as, wandering near her secret bower,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Molest her ancient, solitary reign.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Where heaves the turf in many a moldering heap,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each in his narrow cell forever laid,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The breezy call of incense-breathing morn,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Or busy housewife ply her evening care;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No children run to lisp their sire's return,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How jocund did they drive their team afield!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">How bowed the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Their homely joys, and destiny obscure;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The short and simple annals of the poor.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The boast of Heraldry, the pomp of Power,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Await alike th' inevitable hour:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The paths of glory lead but to the grave.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">If Memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_407" id="Page_407">[Pg 6627]</a></span><span class="i0">Where, through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Can storied urn or animated bust<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can Honor's voice provoke the silent dust,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Or Flattery soothe the dull, cold ear of Death?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hands that the rod of empire might have swayed,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unroll;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chill Penury repressed their noble rage,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And froze the genial current of the soul.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Full many a gem of purest ray serene<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The dark, unfathomed caves of ocean bear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And waste its sweetness on the desert air.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Some village Hampden, that with dauntless breast<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The little tyrant of his fields withstood;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some mute, inglorious Milton here may rest;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country's blood.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Th' applause of listening senates to command,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The threats of Pain and Ruin to despise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And read their history in a nation's eyes,—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Their lot forbade; nor circumscribed alone<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And shut the gates of mercy on mankind;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The struggling pangs of conscious Truth to hide,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To quench the blushes of ingenuous Shame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With incense kindled at the Muse's flame.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">[The thoughtless world to Majesty may bow,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Exalt the brave, and idolize success;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But more to Innocence their safety owe,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Than Power and Genius e'er conspired to bless.]<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">[Hark, how the sacred calm that broods around<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Bids every fierce tumultuous passion cease,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_408" id="Page_408">[Pg 6628]</a></span><span class="i0">In still, small accents whispering from the ground<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A grateful earnest of eternal peace.]<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Their sober wishes never learned to stray;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Along the cool, sequestered vale of life<br /></span> +<span class="i1">They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet even these bones from insult to protect,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Some frail memorial, still erected nigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture decked,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Their names, their years, spelt by th' unlettered Muse,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The place of fame and elegy supply;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And many a holy text around she strews,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That teach the rustic moralist to die.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">This pleasing, anxious being e'er resigned,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Nor cast one longing, lingering look behind?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On some fond breast the parting soul relies;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Some pious drops the closing eye requires:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en from the tomb the voice of Nature cries;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For thee who, mindful of th' unhonored dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Dost in these lines their artless tale relate;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If, chance, by lonely Contemplation led,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Haply some hoary-headed swain may say:—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">"Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brushing with hasty steps the dews away,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To meet the sun upon the upland lawn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"There at the foot of yonder nodding beech<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His listless length at noontide would he stretch,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And pore upon the brook that babbles by.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Muttering his wayward fancies, he would rove;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now drooping, woeful-wan, like one forlorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Or crazed with care, or crossed in hopeless love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"One morn I missed him on the 'customed hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Along the heath, and near his favorite tree:<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_409" id="Page_409">[Pg 6629]</a></span><span class="i0">Another came; nor yet beside the rill,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood, was he:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The next, with dirges due in sad array,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">["There scattered oft, the earliest of the year,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">By hands unseen, are showers of violets found;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The redbreast loves to build and warble there,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And little footsteps lightly print the ground."]<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Epitaph</span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A Youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And Melancholy marked him for her own.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Heaven did a recompense as largely send:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He gave to Misery all he had,—a tear;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">He gained from Heaven ('twas all he wished) a friend.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No farther seek his merits to disclose,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Or draw his frailties from their dread abode,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(There they alike in trembling hope repose,)—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The Bosom of his Father and his God.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>[The stanzas included in brackets were omitted by Gray in the first edition +of the 'Elegy,' and as sanctioned by him or by later editors are (except as +to the third one) of infrequent appearance in the poem.]</p></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="ODE_ON_THE_SPRING" id="ODE_ON_THE_SPRING"></a>ODE ON THE SPRING</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lo! Where the rosy-bosomed Hours,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Fair Venus's train, appear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Disclose the long-expecting flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And wake the purple year!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Attic warbler pours her throat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Responsive to the cuckoo's note,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The untaught harmony of spring;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While, whispering pleasure as they fly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cool zephyrs through the clear blue sky<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Their gathered fragrance fling.<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_410" id="Page_410">[Pg 6630]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where'er the oak's thick branches stretch<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A broader, browner shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where'er the rude and moss-grown beech<br /></span> +<span class="i1">O'er-canopies the glade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beside some water's rushy brink<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With me the Muse shall sit, and think<br /></span> +<span class="i1">(At ease reclined in rustic state)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How vain the ardor of the crowd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How low, how little are the proud,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">How indigent the great!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Still is the toiling hand of Care;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The panting herds repose:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet hark! how through the peopled air<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The busy murmur glows!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The insect-youth are on the wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eager to taste the honeyed spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And float amid the liquid noon;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some lightly o'er the current skim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some show their gayly gilded trim<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Quick-glancing to the sun.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To Contemplation's sober eye<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Such is the race of Man;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And they that creep, and they that fly,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Shall end where they began.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alike the Busy and the Gay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But flutter through life's little day,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In Fortune's varying colors drest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brushed by the hand of rough Mischance,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or chilled by Age, their airy dance<br /></span> +<span class="i1">They leave, in dust to rest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Methinks I hear, in accents low,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The sportive kind reply:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Poor moralist! and what art thou?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A solitary fly!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy joys no glittering female meets,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No hive hast thou of hoarded sweets,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">No painted plumage to display:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On hasty wings thy youth is flown;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy sun is set, thy spring is gone—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">We frolic while 'tis May.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_411" id="Page_411">[Pg 6631]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="ON_A_DISTANT_PROSPECT_OF_ETON_COLLEGE" id="ON_A_DISTANT_PROSPECT_OF_ETON_COLLEGE"></a>ON A DISTANT PROSPECT OF ETON COLLEGE</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye distant spires, ye antique towers,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That crown the watery glade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where grateful Science still adores<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Her Henry's holy shade;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ye, that from the stately brow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Windsor's heights th' expanse below<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of grove, of lawn, of mead survey,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose turf, whose shade, whose flowers among<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wanders the hoary Thames along<br /></span> +<span class="i1">His silver-winding way!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah, happy hills! ah, pleasing shade!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Ah, fields beloved in vain!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where once my careless childhood strayed,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A stranger yet to pain!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I feel the gales that from ye blow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A momentary bliss bestow,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As waving fresh their gladsome wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My weary soul they seem to soothe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, redolent of joy and youth,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To breathe a second spring.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Say, Father Thames,—for thou hast seen<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Full many a sprightly race<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Disporting on thy margent green,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The paths of pleasure trace,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who foremost now delight to cleave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With pliant arm thy glassy wave?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The captive linnet which enthrall?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What idle progeny succeed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To chase the rolling circle's speed,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Or urge the flying ball?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">While some, on earnest business bent,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Their murmuring labors ply<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Gainst graver hours that bring constraint<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To sweeten liberty:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some bold adventurers disdain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The limits of their little reign,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And unknown regions dare descry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still as they run they look behind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They hear a voice in every wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And snatch a fearful joy.<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_412" id="Page_412">[Pg 6632]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Gay hope is theirs, by fancy fed,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Less pleasing when possest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tear forgot as soon as shed,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The sunshine of the breast:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Theirs buxom health, of rosy hue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wild wit, invention ever new,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And lively cheer, of vigor born;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The thoughtless day, the easy night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The spirits pure, the slumbers light,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That fly th' approach of morn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Alas! regardless of their doom,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The little victims play;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No sense have they of ills to come,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">No care beyond to-day:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet see, how all around them wait<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ministers of human fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And black Misfortune's baleful train!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, show them where in ambush stand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To seize their prey, the murtherous band!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Ah! tell them they are men!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">These shall the fury Passions tear,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The vultures of the mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Disdainful Anger, pallid Fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And Shame that skulks behind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or pining Love shall waste their youth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or Jealousy, with rankling tooth,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That inly gnaws the secret heart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Envy wan, and faded Care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grim-visaged comfortless Despair,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And Sorrow's piercing dart.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ambition this shall tempt to rise,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Then whirl the wretch from high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To bitter Scorn a sacrifice,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And grinning Infamy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The stings of Falsehood those shall try,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hard Unkindness's altered eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That mocks the tear it forced to flow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And keen Remorse with blood defiled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And moody Madness laughing wild<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Amid severest woe.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lo! in the vale of years beneath<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A grisly troop are seen,—<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_413" id="Page_413">[Pg 6633]</a></span><span class="i0">The painful family of Death,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">More hideous than their queen:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This racks the joints, this fires the veins,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That every laboring sinew strains,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Those in the deeper vitals rage:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lo! Poverty, to fill the band,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That numbs the soul with icy hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And slow-consuming Age.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To each his sufferings: all are men,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Condemned alike to groan;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tender for another's pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Th' unfeeling for his own.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet, ah! why should they know their fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since sorrow never comes too late,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And happiness too swiftly flies?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thought would destroy their Paradise.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No more: where ignorance is bliss,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">'Tis folly to be wise.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="THE_BARD" id="THE_BARD"></a>THE BARD</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">A Pindaric Ode</span></h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">"Ruin seize thee, ruthless King!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Confusion on thy banners wait!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Though fanned by Conquest's crimson wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They mock the air with idle state.<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Helm, nor hauberk's twisted mail,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Nor e'en thy virtues, Tyrant, shall avail<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To save thy secret soul from nightly fears,—<br /></span> +<span class="i3">From Cambria's curse, from Cambria's tears!"<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Such were the sounds that o'er the crested pride<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of the first Edward scattered wild dismay,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As down the steep of Snowdon's shaggy side<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He wound with toilsome march his long array.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Stout Glo'ster stood aghast in speechless trance;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"To arms!" cried Mortimer, and couched his quivering lance.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">On a rock, whose haughty brow<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Frowns o'er cold Conway's foaming flood,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Robed in the sable garb of woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With haggard eyes the poet stood;<br /></span> +<span class="i3">(Loose his beard, and hoary hair<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Streamed, like a meteor, to the troubled air;)<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_414" id="Page_414">[Pg 6634]</a></span><span class="i1">And with a master's hand and prophet's fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">"Hark, how each giant oak, and desert cave,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sighs to the torrent's awful voice beneath!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">O'er thee, O King! their hundred arms they wave,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Revenge on thee in hoarser murmurs breathe;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Vocal no more, since Cambria's fatal day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To high-born Hoel's harp, or soft Llewellyn's lay.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">"Cold is Cadwallo's tongue,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">That hushed the stormy main;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Brave Urien sleeps upon his craggy bed;<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Mountains, ye mourn in vain<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Modred, whose magic song<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Made huge Plinlimmon bow his cloud-topt head.<br /></span> +<span class="i3">On dreary Arvon's shore they lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Smeared with gore, and ghastly pale:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Far, far aloof the affrighted ravens sail;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The famished eagle screams, and passes by.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Dear lost companions of my tuneful art,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye died amidst your dying country's cries.<br /></span> +<span class="i3">No more I weep: they do not sleep;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">On yonder cliffs, a grisly band,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">I see them sit; they linger yet,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Avengers of their native land;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With me in dreadful harmony they join,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy line.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">"Weave the warp, and weave the woof,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The winding-sheet of Edward's race;<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Give ample room, and verge enough,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The characters of hell to trace;<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Mark the year, and mark the night,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When Severn shall re-echo with affright<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shrieks of death, through Berkley's roof that ring,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Shrieks of an agonizing King!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She-wolf of France, with unrelenting fangs,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That tear'st the bowels of thy mangled mate,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From thee be born, who o'er thy country hangs<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The scourge of Heaven. What terrors round him wait!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Amazement in his van, with Flight combined,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Sorrow's faded form, and Solitude behind.<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_415" id="Page_415">[Pg 6635]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i5">"Mighty victor, mighty lord!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Low on his funeral couch he lies!<br /></span> +<span class="i5">No pitying heart, no eye, afford<br /></span> +<span class="i4">A tear to grace his obsequies.<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Is the sable warrior fled?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy son is gone. He rests among the dead.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The swarm, that in thy noontide beam were born?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Gone to salute the rising morn.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While proudly riding o'er the azure realm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That, hushed in grim repose, expects his evening prey.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i5">"Fill high the sparkling bowl!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The rich repast prepare!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reft of a crown, he yet may share the feast:<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Close by the regal chair<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Fell Thirst and Famine scowl<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A baleful smile upon their baffled guest.<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Heard ye the din of battle bray,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Lance to lance, and horse to horse?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Long years of havoc urge their destined course,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And through the kindred squadrons mow their way.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye towers of Julius, London's lasting shame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With many a foul and midnight murder fed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Revere his consort's faith, his father's fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And spare the meek usurper's holy head.<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Above, below, the rose of snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Twined with her blushing foe, we spread:<br /></span> +<span class="i5">The bristled boar in infant-gore<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Wallows beneath the thorny shade.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now, brothers, bending o'er the accursed loom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stamp we our vengeance deep, and ratify his doom.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i5">"Edward, lo! to sudden fate<br /></span> +<span class="i4">(Weave we the woof. The thread is spun.)<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Half of thy heart we consecrate.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">(The web is wove. The work is done.)<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Stay, oh stay! nor thus forlorn<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Leave me unblessed, unpitied, here to mourn:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In yon bright track that fires the western skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">They melt, they vanish from my eyes.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_416" id="Page_416">[Pg 6636]</a></span><span class="i1">But oh! what solemn scenes on Snowdon's height<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Descending slow their glittering skirts unroll?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Visions of glory, spare my aching sight!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">No more our long-lost Arthur we bewail.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All hail, ye genuine kings, Britannia's issue, hail!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">"Girt with many a baron bold,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Sublime their starry fronts they rear;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And gorgeous dames and statesmen old<br /></span> +<span class="i3">In bearded majesty appear.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In the midst a form divine!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Her eye proclaims her of the Briton line;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Her lion port, her awe-commanding face,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Attempered sweet to virgin grace.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">What strings symphonious tremble in the air;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What strains of vocal transport round her play!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Hear from the grave, great Taliessin, hear!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They breathe a soul to animate thy clay.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Bright Rapture calls, and soaring as she sings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Waves in the eye of heaven her many-colored wings.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i5">"The verse adorn again<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Fierce war, and faithful love,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And truth severe, by fairy fiction drest.<br /></span> +<span class="i5">In buskined measures move<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Pale Grief, and pleasing Pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With Horror, tyrant of the throbbing breast.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">A voice, as of the cherub choir,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Gales from blooming Eden bear;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And distant warblings lessen on my ear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That lost in long futurity expire.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Fond impious man, thinkest thou yon sanguine cloud,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Raised by thy breath, has quenched the orb of day?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To-morrow he repairs the golden flood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And warms the nations with redoubled ray.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Enough for me; with joy I see<br /></span> +<span class="i5">The different doom our fates assign;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Be thine despair, and sceptred care;<br /></span> +<span class="i5">To triumph and to die are mine."<br /></span> +<span class="i1">He spoke, and headlong from the mountain's height<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deep in the roaring tide he plunged to endless night.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_417" id="Page_417">[Pg 6637]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="THE_GREEK_ANTHOLOGY" id="THE_GREEK_ANTHOLOGY"></a>THE GREEK ANTHOLOGY</h2> + +<h4>BY TALCOTT WILLIAMS</h4> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 90px;"> +<img src="images/capt.png" width="90" height="90" alt="T" title="T" /> +</div><p class="dropcap">he greater monuments of Greece all men know, the incomparable +peaks of the chain; and the chain lasted seventeen +hundred years, nor ever sank to the dead level about. The +steadfast sight of these great Greek originals warps and dwarfs our +conception of Greek life. We behold the Parthenon; we forget that +each village shrine had its sense of proportion and subtle curve. The +Venus of Melos we remember, and the Victory is poised forever on +its cliff; but Tanagra figurines tell as much, and reveal more, of +Greek life. Nor is it otherwise in letters. The great names all know. +For a brief span they stood close together, and the father who heard +Æschylus might have told his experience to his long-lived son who +read Aristotle, while between the two stood all the greatest genius +that makes Greece Greek,—save only Homer. So brief was the +noonday,—and it is at high noon, and high noon only, that men +have agreed to take the sun; but this uplift was gained in the ascent +of nigh two hundred years from the first written Greek literature +that still lives. The descent, to the last of the Greek verse which +still remained poetry, ran through thirteen centuries. Over all this +prodigious span of fifteen hundred years stretches the Greek Anthology, +a collection of 4,063 short Greek poems, two to eight lines long +for the most part, collected and re-collected through more than a +thousand years. The first of these poets, Mimnermus, was the contemporary +of Jeremiah, and dwelt in cities that shuddered over tidings +of Babylonian invasion. The last, Cometas, was the contemporary of +Edward the Confessor, and dreaded Seljuk and Turk.</p> + +<p>As the epic impulse faded, and before Greek genius for tragedy +rose, the same race and dialect which had given epic narrative the +proud, full verse that filled like a sail to zephyr and to storm alike, +devised the elegiac couplet. With its opening even flow, its swifter +rush in the second line, and its abrupt pause, it was a medium in +which not narrative but man spoke, whether personal in passion, or +impersonal in the dedication of a statue, or in epitaph. This verse +had conventions as rigorous and restrained as the sonnet, and was +briefer. It served as well for the epitaph of Thermopylæ as for the +cradle-bier of a child, dead new-born; and lent itself as gracefully to +the gift of a bunch of roses as it swelled with some sonorous blast +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_418" id="Page_418">[Pg 6638]</a></span> +of patriotism. It could sharpen to a gibe, or sink to a wail at untoward +fate. Through a period twice as long as the life of English +letters, these short poems set forth the vision of life, the ways and +works of men, the love and death of mortals. These lines of weight, +of moment, always of grace and often of inspiration, stood on milestones; +they graced the base of statues; they were inscribed on +tombs; they stood over doorways; they were painted on vases. The +rustic shrines held them, and on the front of the great temple they +were borne. In this form, friend wrote to friend and lover to lover. +Four or five of the best express the emotion of the passing Greek +traveler at the statue of Memnon on the Nile. The quality of verse +that fills the inn album to-day we all know; but Greek life was so +compact of form and thought that even this unknown traveler's +verse, scrawled with a stylus, still thrills, still rings, as the statue +still sounds its ancient note.</p> + +<p>In this long succession of short poems is delineated the Greek +character, not of Athens but of the whole circle of the Mediterranean. +The sphered life of the race is in its subjects. Each great +Greek victory has its epigrams. In them, statues have an immortal +life denied to marble and to bronze. The critical admiration of the +Hellene for his great men of letters stands recorded here; his early +love for the heroes of his brief-lived freedom, and his sedulous flattery +of the Roman lords of his slavery. Here too is his domestic life, +its joy and its sorrow. In this epigram, the maid dedicates her dolls +to Artemis; and in that, the mother, mother and priestess both, lays +down a life overflowing in good deeds and fruited with honorable +offspring. The splendid side of Greek life is painted elsewhere. Here +is its homely simplicity. The fisher again spreads his nets and the +sailor his peaked lateen sail. The hunter sets his snares and tracks +his game in the light snow. The caged partridge stretches its weary +wings in its cage, and the cat has for it a modern appetite. Men +gibe and jest. They see how hollow life is, and also how truth rings +true. Love is here, sacred and revered, in forms pure and holy; and +not less, that foul pool decked with beauty in which Greek manhood +lost its masculine virtue.</p> + +<p>Half a century before Christ, when Greek life overspread the eastern +Mediterranean, and in every market-place Greek was the tongue +of trade, of learning, and of gentle breeding, Greek letters grew conscious +of its own riches. For six centuries and more, or as long as +separates us from Chaucer, men had been writing these brief epigrams. +The first had the brevity of Simonides, the next Alexandrian +luxuriance. Many were carved by those who wrote much; more by +those who composed but two or three. In Syrian Gadara there dwelt +a Greek, Meleager, whose poetry is the very flower of fervent Greek +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_419" id="Page_419">[Pg 6639]</a></span> +verse. Yet so near did he live to the great change which was to +overturn the gods he loved, and substitute morality for beauty as the +mainspring of life, that some who knew him must also, a brief span +of years later, have known Jesus the Christ. Meleager was the first +who gathered Greek epigrams in an Anthology, prefacing it with +such apt critical utterance as has been the despair of all critics called +since to weigh verse in ruder scales and with a poise less perfect. +He had the wide round of the best of Greek to pick from, and he +chose with unerring taste. To his collection Philippus of Thessalonica, +working when Paul was preaching in Jason's house, added the +work of the Roman period, the fourth development of the epigram. +Other collections between have perished, one in the third or Byzantine +period, in which this verse had a renaissance under Justinian. +In the tenth century a Byzantine scholar, Constantinos Cephalas, +rearranged his predecessors' collections,—Meleager's included,—and +brought together the largest number which has come down to us. +The collection is known to-day as the 'Palatine Anthology,' from the +library which long owned it. His work was in the last flare of life +in the Lower Empire, when Greek heroism, for the last time, stemmed +the Moslem tide and gave Eastern Europe breathing-space. When +his successor Maximus Planudes, of the century of Petrarch,—monk, +diplomat, theologian, and phrase-maker,—addressed himself to the +last collection made, the shadow of new Italy lay over Greek life, +and the Galilean had recast the minds of men. He excluded much +that Greeks, from Meleager to Cephalas, had freely admitted, and +which modern lovers of the Anthology would be willing to see left +out of all copies but their own. The collection of Planudes long +remained alone known (first edition Florence, 1594). That of Cephalas +survived in a single manuscript of varied fortune, seen in 1606 +by Salmasius at eighteen,—happy boy, and happy manuscript!—lost +to learning for a century and a half in the Vatican, published by +Brunck, 1776, and finally edited by Frederic Jacobs, 1794-1803, five +volumes of text and three of comment, usually bound in eight. The +text has been republished by Tauchnitz, and the whole work has its +most convenient and familiar form for scholars in the edition of both +the collections of Planudes and Cephalas, with epigrams from all +other sources prepared by Frederic Dübner for Didot's 'Bibliotheca +Scriptorum Græcorum,' 1864-1872, three volumes. The Anthology as +a whole has no adequate English translation. About one-third of the +poems have a prose translation by George Burges in the 'Greek +Anthology,' 1832, of Bohn's series, with versions in verse by many +hands.</p> + +<p>The first English translation of selections appeared anonymously, +1791. Others have succeeded: Robert Bland and John Herman +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_420" id="Page_420">[Pg 6640]</a></span> +Merivale, 1806; Robert Bland, 1813; Richard Garnett, 1864; Sir Edwin +Arnold, 1869; John Addington Symonds, 1873; J.W. Mackail, 1890; +Lilla Cabot Perry, 1891. A collection of selected translations edited +by Graham R. Tomson was published in 1889. Of these partial versions, +the only one which approaches the incommunicable charm of the +original is Mr. Mackail's, an incomparable translation. His versions +are freely used in the selections which follow. All the metrical versions, +except those by Mrs. Perry, are from Miss Tomson's collection. +But no translation equals the sanity, the brevity, the clarity of the +Greek original, qualities which have made these epigrams consummate +models of style to the modern world. In all the round of literature, +the only exact analogue of the Greek epigram is the Japanese +"ode," with its thirty syllables, its single idea, and its constant use of +all classes as an universal medium of familiar poetic expression. Of +like nature, used alike for epigraph, epitaph, and familiar personal +expression, is the rhymed Arabic Makotta, brief poems written in one +form for eighteen hundred years, and still written.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 537px;"> +<img src="images/sign420.png" width="358" height="61" alt="Talcott Williams" title="Talcott Williams" /> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>ON THE ATHENIAN DEAD AT PLATÆA</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Simonides</span> (556-467 B.C.)</h4> + +<p>If to die nobly is the chief part of excellence, to us out of all +men Fortune gave this lot; for hastening to set a crown +of freedom on Greece, we lie possessed of praise that grows +not old.</p> + +<p class="trans">Translation of J.W. Mackail.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>ON THE LACEDÆMONIAN DEAD AT PLATÆA</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Simonides</span></h4> + +<p>These men, having set a crown of imperishable glory on their +own land, were folded in the dark clouds of death; yet +being dead they have not died, since from on high their +excellence raises them gloriously out of the house of Hades.</p> + +<p class="trans">Translation of J.W. Mackail.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_421" id="Page_421">[Pg 6641]</a></span></p> +<h3>ON A SLEEPING SATYR</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Plato</span> (429-347 B. C.)</h4> + +<p>This satyr Diodorus engraved not, but laid to rest; your touch +will wake him; the silver is asleep.</p> + +<p class="trans">Translation of J. W. Mackail.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>A POET'S EPITAPH</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Simmias of Thebes</span> (405 B.C.)</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Quietly, o'er the tomb of Sophocles,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quietly, ivy, creep with tendrils green;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And roses, ope your petals everywhere,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While dewy shoots of grape-vine peep between,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the wise and honeyed poet's grave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom Muse and Grace their richest treasures gave.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="trans">Translation of J. W. Mackail.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>WORSHIP IN SPRING</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Theætetus</span> (Fourth Century B. C.)</h4> + +<p>Now at her fruitful birth-tide the fair green field flowers out +in blowing roses; now on the boughs of the colonnaded +cypresses the cicala, mad with music, lulls the binder of +sheaves; and the careful mother swallow, having finished houses +under the eaves, gives harborage to her brood in the mud-plastered +cells; and the sea slumbers, with zephyr-wooing calm +spread clear over the broad ship-tracks, not breaking in squalls +on the stemposts, not vomiting foam upon the beaches. O sailor, +burn by the altars the glittering round of a mullet, or a cuttle-fish, +or a vocal scarus, to Priapus, ruler of ocean and giver of +anchorage; and so go fearlessly on thy seafaring to the bounds +of the Ionian Sea.</p> + +<p class="trans">Translation of J. W. Mackail.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_422" id="Page_422">[Pg 6642]</a></span></p> +<h3>SPRING ON THE COAST</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Leonidas of Tarentum</span> (Third Century B. C.)</h4> + +<p>Now is the season of sailing; for already the chattering swallow +is come, and the gracious west wind; the meadows flower, +and the sea, tossed up with waves and rough blasts, has +sunk to silence. Weigh thine anchors and unloose thine hawsers, +O mariner, and sail with all thy canvas set: this I, Priapus of +the harbor, bid thee, O man, that thou mayest set forth to all +thy trafficking.</p> + +<p class="trans">Translation of J.W. Mackail.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>A YOUNG HERO'S EPITAPH.</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Dioscorides</span> (Third Century B. C.)</h4> + +<p>Home to Petana comes Thrasybulus lifeless on his shield, seven +Argive wounds before. His bleeding boy the father Tynnichos +lays on the pyre, to say:—"Let your wounds weep. +Tearless I bury you, my boy—mine and my country's."</p> + +<p class="trans">Translation of Talcott Williams.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>LOVE</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Posidippus</span> (Third Century B. C.)</h4> + +<p>Jar of Athens, drip the dewy juice of wine, drip, let the feast +to which all bring their share be wetted as with dew; be +silenced the swan-sage Zeno, and the Muse of Cleanthes, and +let bitter-sweet Love be our concern.</p> + +<p class="trans">Translation of J.W. Mackail.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>SORROW'S BARREN GRAVE</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Heracleitus</span> (Third Century B. C.)</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Keep off, keep off thy hand, O husbandman,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor through this grave's calm dust thy plowshare drive;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These very sods have once been mourned upon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on such ground no crop will ever thrive,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor corn spring up with green and feathery ears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From earth that has been watered by such tears.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="trans">Translation of Alma Strettell.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_423" id="Page_423">[Pg 6643]</a></span></p> +<h3>TO A COY MAIDEN</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Asclepiades</span> (286 B.C.)</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Believe me love, it is not good<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To hoard a mortal maidenhood;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In Hades thou wilt never find,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Maiden, a lover to thy mind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love's for the living! presently<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ashes and dust in death are we!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="trans">Translation of Andrew Lang.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>THE EMPTIED QUIVER</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Mnesalcus</span> (Second Century B.C.)</h4> + +<p>This bending bow and emptied quiver, Promachus hangs as a +gift to thee, Phoebus. The swift shafts men's hearts hold, +whom they called to death in the battle's rout.</p> + +<p class="trans">Translation of Talcott Williams.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>THE TALE OF TROY</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Alpheus</span> (First Century B.C.)</h4> + +<p>Still we hear the wail of Andromache, still we see all Troy +toppling from her foundations, and the battling Ajax, and +Hector, bound to the horses, dragged under the city's crown +of towers,—through the Muse of Mæonides, the poet with whom +no one country adorns herself as her own, but the zones of both +worlds.</p> + +<p class="trans">Translation of J.W. Mackail.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>HEAVEN HATH ITS STARS</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Marcus Argentarius</span> (First Century B.C.)</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Feasting, I watch with westward-looking eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The flashing constellations' pageantry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Solemn and splendid; then anon I wreathe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My hair, and warbling to my harp I breathe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My full heart forth, and know the heavens look down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pleased, for they also have their Lyre and Crown.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="trans">Translation of Richard Garnett.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_424" id="Page_424">[Pg 6644]</a></span></p> +<h3>PAN OF THE SEA-CLIFF</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Archias</span> (First Century B.C.)</h4> + +<p>Me, Pan, the fishermen placed upon this holy cliff,—Pan of +the sea-shore, the watcher here over the fair anchorages of +the harbor: and I take care now of the baskets and again +of the trawlers off this shore. But sail thou by, O stranger, and +in requital of this good service of theirs I will send behind thee +a gentle south wind.</p> + +<p class="trans">Translation of J.W. Mackail.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>ANACREON'S GRAVE</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Antipater of Sidon</span> (First Century B.C.)</h4> + +<p>O stranger who passeth by the humble tomb of Anacreon, if +thou hast had aught of good from my books, pour libation +on my ashes, pour libation of the jocund grape, that my +bones may rejoice, wetted with wine; so I, who was ever deep in +the wine-steeped revels of Dionysus, I who was bred among +drinking-tunes, shall not even when dead endure without Bacchus +this place to which the generation of mortals must come.</p> + +<p class="trans">Translation of J.W. Mackail.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>REST AT NOON</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Meleager</span> (First Century B.C.)</h4> + +<p>Voiceful cricket, drunken with drops of dew, thou playest thy +rustic music that murmurs in the solitude, and perched on +the leaf edges shrillest thy lyre-tune with serrated legs and +swart skin. But, my dear, utter a new song for the tree-nymphs' +delight, and make thy harp-notes echo to Pan's, that escaping +Love I may seek out sleep at noon, here, lying under the shady +plane.</p> + +<p class="trans">Translation of J.W. Mackail.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_425" id="Page_425">[Pg 6645]</a></span></p> +<h3>"IN THE SPRING A YOUNG MAN'S FANCY"</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Meleager</span></h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now the white iris blossoms, and the rain-loving narcissus,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And now again the lily, the mountain-roaming, blows.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now too, the flower of lovers, the crown of all the springtime,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Zenophila the winsome, doth blossom with the rose.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O meadows, wherefore vainly in your radiant garlands laugh ye?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Since fairer is the maiden than any flower that grows!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="trans">Translation of Alma Strettell.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>MELEAGER'S OWN EPITAPH</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Meleager</span></h4> + +<p>Tread softly, O stranger; for here an old man sleeps among +the holy dead, lulled in the slumber due to all; Meleager +son of Eucrates, who united Love of the sweet tears and +the Muses with the joyous Graces; whom god-begotten Tyre +brought to manhood, and the sacred land of Gadara, but lovely +Cos nursed in old age among the Meropes. But if thou art a +Syrian, say "Salam," and if a Phoenician, "Naidios," and if a +Greek, "Hail": they are the same.</p> + +<p class="trans">Translation of J.W. Mackail.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>EPILOGUE</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Philodemus</span> (60 B.C.)</h4> + +<p>I was in love once; who has not been? I have reveled; who is +uninitiated in revels? Nay, I was mad; at whose prompting +but a god's? Let them go; for now the silver hair is fast +replacing the black, a messenger of wisdom that comes with age. +We too played when the time of playing was; and now that it is +no longer, we will turn to worthier thoughts.</p> + +<p class="trans">Translation of J.W. Mackail.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>DOCTOR AND DIVINITY</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Nicarchus</span></h4> + +<p>Marcus the doctor called yesterday on the marble Zeus; though +marble, and though Zeus, his funeral is to-day.</p> + +<p class="trans">Translation of J.W. Mackail.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_426" id="Page_426">[Pg 6646]</a></span></p> +<h3>LOVE'S IMMORTALITY</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Strato</span> (First Century A.D.)</h4> + +<p>Who may know if a loved one passes the prime, while ever +with him and never left alone? Who may not satisfy +to-day who satisfied yesterday? and if he satisfy, what +should befall him not to satisfy to-morrow?</p> + +<p class="trans">Translation of J.W. Mackail.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>AS THE FLOWERS OF THE FIELD</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Strato</span></h4> + +<p>If thou boast in thy beauty, know that the rose too blooms, +but quickly being withered, is cast on the dunghill; for blossom +and beauty have the same time allotted to them, and +both together envious time withers away.</p> + +<p class="trans">Translation of J.W. Mackail.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>SUMMER SAILING</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Antiphilus</span> (First Century A.D.)</h4> + +<p>Mine be a mattress on the poop, and the awnings over it, +sounding with the blows of the spray, and the fire forcing +its way out of the hearthstones, and a pot upon them with +empty turmoil of bubbles; and let me see the boy dressing the +meat, and my table be a ship's plank covered with a cloth; and +a game of pitch-and-toss, and the boatswain's whistle: the other +day I had such fortune, for I love common life.</p> + +<p class="trans">Translation of J.W. Mackail.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>THE GREAT MYSTERIES</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Crinagoras</span> (First Century A.D.)</h4> + +<p>Though thy life be fixed in one seat, and thou sailest not the +sea nor treadest the roads on dry land, yet by all means go +to Attica, that thou mayest see those great nights of the +worship of Demeter; whereby thou shalt possess thy soul without +care among the living, and lighter when thou must go to the +place that awaiteth all.</p> + +<p class="trans">Translation of J. W. Mackail.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_427" id="Page_427">[Pg 6647]</a></span></p> +<h3>TO PRIAPUS OF THE SHORE</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Mæcius</span> (Roman period)</h4> + +<p>Priapus of the sea-shore, the trawlers lay before thee these gifts +by the grace of thine aid from the promontory, having imprisoned +a tunny shoal in their nets of spun hemp in the +green sea entrances: a beechen cup, and a rude stool of heath, +and a glass cup holding wine, that thou mayest rest thy foot, +weary and cramped with dancing, while thou chasest away the +dry thirst.</p> + +<p class="trans">Translation of J.W. Mackail.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>THE COMMON LOT</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Ammianus</span> (Second Century A.D.)</h4> + +<p>Though thou pass beyond thy landmarks even to the pillars of +Heracles, the share of earth that is equal to all men awaits +thee, and thou shalt lie even as Irus, having nothing more +than thine obelus moldering into a land that at last is not thine.</p> + +<p class="trans">Translation of J.W. Mackail.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>"TO-MORROW, AND TO-MORROW"</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Macedonius</span> (Third Century A.D.)</h4> + +<p>"To-morrow I will look on thee,"—but that never comes for +us, while the accustomed putting-off ever grows and grows. +This is all thy grace to my longing; and to others thou +bearest other gifts, despising my faithful service. "I will see +thee at evening." And what is the evening of a woman's life?—old +age, full of a million wrinkles.</p> + +<p class="trans">Translation of J.W. Mackail.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>THE PALACE GARDEN</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Arabius</span> (527-567 A.D.)</h4> + +<p>I am filled with waters, and gardens, and groves, and vineyards, +and the joyousness of the bordering sea; and fisherman and +farmer from different sides stretch forth to me the pleasant +gifts of sea and land: and them who abide in me, either a bird +singing or the sweet cry of the ferrymen lulls to rest.</p> + +<p class="trans">Translation of J.W. Mackail.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_428" id="Page_428">[Pg 6648]</a></span></p> +<h3>THE YOUNG WIFE</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Julianus Ægyptius</span> (532 A.D.)</h4> + +<p>In season the bride-chamber held thee, out of season the grave +took thee, O Anastasia, flower of the blithe Graces; for thee +a father, for thee a husband pours bitter tears; for thee haply +even the ferryman of the dead weeps; for not a whole year didst +thou accomplish beside thine husband, but at sixteen years old, +alas! the tomb holds thee.</p> + +<p class="trans">Translation of J.W. Mackail.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>A NAMELESS GRAVE</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Paulus Silentiarius</span></h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My name, my country, what are they to thee?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What, whether proud or bare my pedigree?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perhaps I far surpassed all other men;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perhaps I fell below them all. What then?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Suffice it, stranger, that thou seest a tomb.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou knowest its use. It hides—no matter whom.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="trans">Translation of William Cowper.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>RESIGNATION</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Joannes Barbucallus</span> (Sixth Century A.D.)</h4> + +<p>Gazing upon my husband as my last thread was spun, I praised +the gods of death, and I praised the gods of marriage,—those, +that I left my husband alive, and these, that he was +even such an one; but may he remain, a father for our children.</p> + +<p class="trans">Translation of J.W. Mackail.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>THE HOUSE OF THE RIGHTEOUS</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Macedonius</span> (Sixth Century A.D.)</h4> + +<p>Righteousness has raised this house from the first foundation +even to the lofty roof; for Macedonius fashioned not his +wealth by heaping up from the possessions of others with +plundering sword, nor has any poor man here wept over his vain +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_429" id="Page_429">[Pg 6649]</a></span> +and profitless toil, being robbed of his most just hire; and as rest +from labor is kept inviolate by the just man, so let the works of +pious mortals endure.</p> + +<p class="trans">Translation of J. W. Mackail.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>LOVE'S FERRIAGE</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Agathias</span> (527-565 A.D.)</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Since she was watched and could not kiss me closely,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Divine Rhodanthe cast her maiden zone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From off her waist, and holding it thus loosely<br /></span> +<span class="i1">By the one end, she put a kiss thereon;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then I—Love's stream as through a channel taking—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">My lips upon the other end did press<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And drew the kisses in, while ceaseless making,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thus from afar, reply to her caress.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So the sweet girdle did beguile our pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Being a ferry for our kisses twain.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="trans">Translation of Alma Strettell.</p> + + + + +<p class="center">[The following are undetermined in date.]</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h3>ON A FOWLER</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Isidorus</span></h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With reeds and bird-lime from the desert air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eumelus gathered free though scanty fare.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No lordly patron's hand he deign'd to kiss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor luxury knew, save liberty, nor bliss.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thrice thirty years he lived, and to his heirs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His reeds bequeathed, his bird-lime, and his snares.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="trans">Translation of William Cowper.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>YOUTH AND RICHES</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Anonymous</span></h4> + +<p>I was young, but poor; now in old age I am rich: alas, alone of +all men pitiable in both, who then could enjoy when I had +nothing, and now have when I cannot enjoy.</p> + +<p class="trans">Translation of J. W. Mackail.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_430" id="Page_430">[Pg 6650]</a></span></p> +<h3>THE SINGING REED</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Anonymous</span></h4> + +<p>I the reed was a useless plant; for out of me grow not figs, +nor apple, nor grape cluster: but man consecrated me a +daughter of Helicon, piercing my delicate lips and making +me the channel of a narrow stream; and thenceforth whenever I +sip black drink, like one inspired I speak all words with this +voiceless mouth.</p> + +<p class="trans">Translation of J.W. Mackail.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>FIRST LOVE AGAIN REMEMBERED</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Anonymous</span></h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">While yet the grapes were green thou didst refuse me;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When they were ripe, didst proudly pass me by:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But do not grudge me still a single cluster,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Now that the grapes are withering and dry.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="trans">Translation of Alma Strettell.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>SLAVE AND PHILOSOPHER</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Anonymous</span></h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I Epictetus was a slave while here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deformed in body, and like Irus poor,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet to the gods immortal I was dear.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="trans">Translation of Lilla Cabot Perry, by permission of the American Publishers' +Corporation.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>GOOD-BY TO CHILDHOOD</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Anonymous</span></h4> + +<p>Her tambourines and pretty ball, and the net that confined her +hair, and her dolls and dolls' dresses, Timareta dedicates +before her marriage to Artemis of Limnæ,—a maiden to a +maiden, as is fit; do thou, daughter of Leto, laying thine hand +over the girl Timareta, preserve her purely in her purity.</p> + +<p class="trans">Translation of J.W. Mackail.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_431" id="Page_431">[Pg 6651]</a></span></p> +<h3>WISHING</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Anonymous</span></h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It's oh! to be a wild wind, when my lady's in the sun:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She'd just unbind her neckerchief, and take me breathing in.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It's oh! to be a red rose, just a faintly blushing one,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So she'd pull me with her hand, and to her snowy breast I'd win.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="trans">Translation of William M. Hardinge.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>HOPE AND EXPERIENCE</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Anonymous</span></h4> + +<p>Whoso has married once and seeks a second wedding, is +a shipwrecked man who sails twice through a difficult +gulf.</p> + +<p class="trans">Translation of J.W. Mackail.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>THE SERVICE OF GOD</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Anonymous</span></h4> + +<p>Me, Chelidon, priestess of Zeus, who knew well in old age +how to make offering on the altars of the immortals, +happy in my children, free from grief, the tomb holds; +for with no shadow in their eyes the gods saw my piety.</p> + +<p class="trans">Translation of J.W. Mackail.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>THE PURE IN HEART</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Anonymous</span></h4> + +<p>He who enters the incense-filled temple must be holy; and +holiness is to have a pure mind.</p> + +<p class="trans">Translation of J.W. Mackail.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_432" id="Page_432">[Pg 6652]</a></span></p> +<h3>THE WATER OF PURITY</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Anonymous</span></h4> + +<p>Hallowed in soul, O stranger, come even into the precinct of +a pure god, touching thyself with the virgin water: for the +good a few drops are set; but a wicked man the whole +ocean cannot wash in its waters.</p> + +<p class="trans">Translation of J.W. Mackail.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>ROSE AND THORN</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Anonymous</span></h4> + +<p>The rose is at her prime a little while; which once past, thou +wilt find when thou seekest, no rose, but a thorn.</p> + +<p class="trans">Translation of J.W. Mackail.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>A LIFE'S WANDERING</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Anonymous</span></h4> + +<p>Know ye the flowery fields of the Cappadocian nation? Thence +I was born of good parents: since I left them I have wandered +to the sunset and the dawn; my name was Glaphyrus, +and like my mind. I lived out my sixtieth year in perfect +freedom; I know both the favor of fortune and the bitterness +of life.</p> + +<p class="trans">Translation of J.W. Mackail.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> +<div class="footnotes"> +<h3>FOOTNOTES</h3> +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> +The story of King Lear and his three daughters.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_2" id="Footnote_A_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_2"><span class="label">[B]</span></a> +The story of the three caskets in 'The Merchant of Venice.'</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_3" id="Footnote_A_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_3"><span class="label">[C]</span></a> +Five hundred and thirty-seven miles from Seleucia, two hundred and +three from the nearest coast of Syria, according to Pliny.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_4" id="Footnote_A_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_4"><span class="label">[D]</span></a> Potter [detests] potter.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_5" id="Footnote_A_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_5"><span class="label">[E]</span></a> "Whoever sees God must die."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_6" id="Footnote_A_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_6"><span class="label">[F]</span></a> Oblómof is the genitive plural of the word oblóm or oblám, a term expressive +of anything broken or almost useless, or even bad; a rude, awkward, +unfinished man.</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> + +<h2>TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES</h2> + +<p>1. 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